And Let That Be Our Legacy
by Elorie 'Kam
Summary: It has the potential to bring the administration to its knees... but it doesn't. And so it goes on and forward, and we will do better. Character death. JD, SamMallory, ZoeyCharlie. Seaborn for America.
1. The World is Coming Apart at the Seams

**Rating:** PG-13 for concepts and violence and a bit of language.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own 'em. Please don't sue; I have college loans to pay off and stuff.

**Written:** January 2006 through ?

**Summary:** You want a summary? You want a SUMMARY? It's long. There is angst within. It's bad on so many levels. It has the potential to bring the administration to its knees... but it doesn't. And so it goes on and forward, and we will do better.

**Spoilers:** This goes AU somewhere around the end of season 2. The MS announcement comes in late April 2001 (right before this; this is after the infamous press briefing and before the events of 'Manchester') and Manchester, alas, doesn't really happen. Basically, anything before 'Two Cathedrals' is fair game not mangled (ah, references to... this takes place after that), and anything from 'Manchester' up through somewhere around the middle of season 3 is fair game very much mangled, and anything after that is unrecognizable, which will make some people very happy and others, you know, not.

**Pairings:** I don't like to reveal all of my pairings in advance, actually, but I know it's expected, so... Josh/Donna, Charlie/Zoey, Sam/Mallory, perhaps Toby/Andi, a fair amount of friendship stuff. At least for the first 25 chapters or so. ;)

**Author's Notes, etc:** Check my profile for a link. The full author's notes are in my LJ behind a cut and in white so you have to highlight to read, since all of the notes for each chapter are together. General squick/trigger warning (I've never had to use one before but I understand it's proper to do so): this story deals with rape, descriptions of violence, discusses abortion, and I kill a character. (Just please don't label this as a 'rape story' or a 'character death story', but please read responsibly.) If you want to know who/when, get in touch, but it's not Leo, unless I do it way, way post-administration. Also, if you desire to archive, please ask first; in general, I also crosspost to my LJ and possibly a fanfic community as well.

AND LET THAT BE OUR LEGACY

_The World is Coming Apart at the Seams_

Sam leaned back. "He announced it. We're about to have the world come crashing down around our ears. What more, exactly, do you want?" There was a vague and atypical bitterness to his tone.

"It's the fall that's going to kill you," muttered CJ.

Toby shot a quick look at the Press Secretary, then resumed his full non-glower at Sam. "An apology. Perhaps some more lawyers. I don't know, Sam; perhaps some disguises so we can work somewhere besides Nowhere, Oregon after we've lost the best chance to have the real thing for eight years this country's had in fifty years. Does that cover it?" 

"Don't diss Oregon... it's got, you know, stuff," put in Josh with his almost-smirk from another seat as he leaned back in it, dimples showing a little.

"Have you ever been there?" returned Toby, giving the other man a look that had nearly caused Greg Summer-Hayes to sink into his office couch a couple of days ago.

"Um, no, but I've heard good things about it."

"Then shut up." Toby turned back to Sam. "Did I cover it?"

Sam tapped two chopsticks against a bottle. "We are... so completely screwed." 

"Thank you for reminding me; I hadn't noticed for the last ten minutes. Did I cover it, or are you going to make me pose the damn question in what I rightfully call bad writing?" 

"Imagery! It's imagery, Toby, and it's beautiful and makes people stand up and the President can deliver it like..." Sam trailed off and stared into space. "If we lose, the last speech I ever write for the President will be a concession speech. Defeat. I don't know if he deserves that. No, I do know. He doesn't. Deserve that, I mean. MS and defeat." The bitterness was gone, replaced by a pained quaver no one at the table could really put a name to.

"Bad writing. And answer the question." Toby leaned across the table a little bit and picked up a chopstick, angling it. "And if you tap those things against the bottle again, Sam, I swear..."

"They can't possibly be as annoying as you bouncing those damn balls of yours against the wall." 

CJ looked up and smiled that mischievious, slightly tilted smile of hers at the two writers, looking almost happy. A trace of impishness sparked in her eyes as she looked at Toby.

Josh choked in the middle of swallowing his drink, raising his eyebrows eloquently, looking as though he was close to saying something both stupid and funny.

"I hate you all."

"Thanks, Toby, I never would have guessed that." Sam lifted his idealistic eyes up at the ceiling. "You covered most of it." 

"What part did I miss, Sam?" his boss responded in a low voice. It was the quiet, almost velvety voice that dared one to disagree with Toby... usually at the peril of self-esteem, at the very least.

"You didn't mention the apology enough." 

Josh had been slouching a little bit. Now he came fully upright and stared at his best friend. "What?"

"He lied to us," came the simultaneous response from CJ and Sam. CJ winced and sat back in her chair, tearing up a napkin.

"I didn't mention the apology enough, Sam, because that's physically impossible. He hid it from us. That may seem nice when the subpeonas get handed down and the oversight committee finds out that none of us knew about it until about a week ago, but all it does right now is make us as mad as hell. That's a beautiful way to start a reelection campaign, because the people at campaign stops will be wondering where all the wrong kind of firebreathing is coming from in his speeches." Now it was the voice of piercing eloquence that practically forbade argument.

"Okay." Josh slumped forward and stared at the table. "This is a wood table, you know that?"

CJ lifted her eyes and looked at Josh. "Are you drunk? Because if you are, you're getting a cab just to keep you out of the press briefing-" she stopped abruptly and braced her hands against her forehead, leaning forward.

There was a long pause, while Toby and Sam stared at her, and Josh just blinked. "It's okay, CJ, I'm not drunk," he finally managed.

Toby rolled a napkin up and looked at it, then rolled up another one, very slowly.

"CJ..." Sam finally started.

She didn't look up. "I'm going home. See you guys in the morning." She gathered up a few files. "Who's taking the leftovers?" 

"I am," Josh responded. "Breakfast tomorrow." 

CJ smiled even as she rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, then."

"Night, CJ," Sam and Josh chorused. Toby lifted his eyes, which were just as eloquent as the speeches he wrote, and watched CJ go.

"She'll be okay in the morning," Josh said after a few minutes of the two writers scribbling on their pads.

"That's what you said last night," Sam reminded him.

"No, she won't," came Toby right on his heels. "No, she won't, Josh, and here's why: she all but said to the White House Press Corps that the President of the United States, who is very likely to be impeached and will certainly be investigated by Congress and who has been concealing a medical condition from almost everyone for years, is relieved--relieved, Josh--to be sending members of our Armed Forces into danger."

"I know that, Toby, I was there!" 

"Then why do you need constant reminding of just why CJ isn't going to be okay the next morning?"

"Just... because. I'm hopeful." Josh rubbed his face with his hands. 

"Then here is some help in becoming not hopeful, Josh: CJ is completely screwed. We may leave her out of the loop sometimes to protect her from having to lie to the press, but she is the Press Secretary to the President of the United States and she's gone into that briefing room and told the nation that the President was in perfect health. How well do you think that's going to play in the hearings?"

Josh stared at Toby. "But... she didn't know!" he squeaked. "They can't blame her for saying he was healthy when she had no reason to believe otherwise."

"Watch them. CJ is finished in politics and was before the Haiti screwup happened. And she knows it, too."

Josh thumped his head down on the table and stayed there. It should have been impossible for a thump to sound despairing, but this one did. Sam sat there, turning his pen over and over. "We're back at 7 am?" he finally asked. Receiving just a brief glance in acknowledgement from Toby, he picked everything up and left, patting Josh briefly on his way. Josh lifted his head and gathered his suit jacket, then snatched the cartons of leftover takeout and made his exit, eager to be away from Toby before any more unpleasant truths came his way.

He had no idea.


	2. I've Stepped Off the Edge of the World

_I've Stepped Off the Edge of the World_

The next morning, Josh swung into his office and deposited his backpack without noticing where it fell, then started to sit at his desk.

There was a long pause while he gazed at it in a combination of horror and rapture. _That's so... not my desk._

"Donna!" She came to the threshold of his office and leaned against the doorjamb.

"What did you do with my desk?"

"I organized it, Josh."

"It was a total wreck yesterday, Donna. A complete loss. Unsalvageable. You know, its usual status?"

"I know. No lack of organization can stop me." Donna paused and smiled at him in a way he had learned meant trouble. "Margaret gave me a few pointers."

"Oh, my God," came the response. 

"You're welcome, Deputy Dolt."

"Donna, I can see the surface to my desk. I can't deal with that reality. I thought it was just endless piles of papers." Josh's feet were still bolted to the floor and he almost looked about to panic; it was very nearly funny.

"It's not. And deal with it." 

He peered up at her. "How long did this take you?" 

"Half an hour."

"It's quarter to seven!"

"I got here early," she said triumphantly.

"Yes, yes, you did... congratulations." Pause. "Bring me coffee."

"Yeah, right." If Donna had rolled her eyes more, they would have never come down. 

"Had to try." Smirk.

"You have senior staff in 15. Leo's office."

"Yeah, I know." He watched her turn around, ponytail swinging, and then looked at the surface of his desk. "You know," he murmured, "this is wood too... there must be a lot of wood around here..."

He looked at it for a minute, then picked up a file.

Thump. The folder safely covered the blank spot on his desk, and he started to read.

* * *

The three men strode down the hallway.

"Where's CJ?"

"I don't know."

"She knew staff was at 7, right?"

"Sam, were you in zombie mode last night when CJ checked on that?" Toby retorted.

"I can't believe you just said 'zombie mode', Toby."

"Guys, do we try to cover for her with Leo, or not?" Josh asked. 

"'We're attempting to contact her; yes, she knew what time senior staff was this morning; weather may have delayed her,'" Sam replied immediately.

"Yes, and the President was looking out over a magnificent vista when he gave the speech to the United Organization of Trout Fishermen," Toby shot back. It is worth noting that particular morning as being near-paradisaical; the polar opposite of the night the President had stood before hundreds of reporters and claimed to be able to win a presidential election again. In short, weather only served as a delay today if one was so enraptured by it that one forgot the time.

"How long am I going to be hearing about that?"

"Forever. It was raining, Sam."

"I knew it was raining after it started raining..."

"I'm not saying anything about the weather," Josh said, as they came up on Leo's door.

"Go on in," Margaret said, typing away.

"Thanks." 

Leo glanced up as they filed in. "Good. We've got lots to do. First of all--" he stopped. His lips tightened in noticeable displeasure as he surveyed his office carefully. "Where the hell is CJ?"

Josh opened his mouth.

"I told her staff was at 7:45 this morning, Leo," Sam said swiftly. "Completely my fault. I left a message on her home phone and her cell as soon as I realized this morning." Technically, the part about the messages was true.

"Well, tell her to get herself to my office as soon as she gets in." Leo put his glasses on the desk and resumed the meeting. "Okay, first of all, how's the thing with Haiti clearing up?"

"Leo, about that-" Josh started.

"I don't want to hear it, Josh, whatever it is." Josh looked down. "How's the thing with Haiti clearing up?" Leo repeated.

Toby rocked back and forth a bit. "Could be better. On the other hand, it could be worse. The press is a little more focused on the big thing, but there are still some comments here and there that aren't helping any."

"Keep an eye on it. Screwups make me crazy." Leo turned to Sam. "What have you got today?"

* * *

At 9:45, Sam stuck his head into Toby's office.

"Go away."

"Toby, I'm doing the 10 am briefing." 

"Oh."

"What?"

"I thought you were Ginger again."

"I'm flattered." 

"Shut up." Toby finally looked up at the communications deputy. "Anything?" he asked as Sam came further into the office.

"Nada."

"I can't believe you write for the President," Toby grumbled, looking at his messy writing pad. What wasn't crossed out on it was very good writing, though. Toby was just very critical.

"I still can't believe it either, some days." Sam smiled a little. 

"You know what to expect from the 10 o'clock?" 

"CJ's not feeling well, and we don't comment on the personal lives of the staff. No, she hasn't been fired, no, she hasn't resigned, either. Blah, blah."

"Don't screw up, or my glare will look like a smile compared to the one Leo will give you." Sam shuddered in response. "Go, do your thing." 

"I'll let you know if I hear anything," Sam said as he reached for the door.

* * *

CJ Cregg was most definitely not feeling well.

Her head felt ready to explode, and she ached everywhere, including--no, don't think about that. Just open one eye, slowly.

She did, flinching at the daylight; one of the last things she remembered was looking around at what promised to be an absolutely gorgeous spring day. Now it was just making her head hurt.

Very slowly, she realized she was lying partly on her side. Carefully looking around a little bit--she couldn't see much--she realized she was on asphalt, and there was blood and small shards of broken glass around.

_Sam grabbed her and pushed her down._

Am I at Rosslyn still? Again?

It couldn't possibly be Rosslyn; it was too bright, and there was apparently no one around. With surging panic, CJ realized she had no idea where she was, and sat up for a better look.

Pain lanced through her side, stifling her subsequent intake of breath.

Sharp agony went through the upper part of her left calf as she moved the leg a bit, and she clenched her teeth together to stifle an outcry, in case there was someone within earshot.

The resulting pain in her face and jaw sent her back to the pavement, this time flopped over onto her back, which hurt almost as much, but let her breathe a little better. She gazed at the blue, blue sky without a hint of cloud in it as a tear spilled from each eye, and then looked around again. Her headache was furiously stabbing at her now, reaching out with the same claws of fear and panic as her memory.

_What the hell...?_

The little wallet she took for running so she could keep her keys and ID with her in case she ever needed them was lying little more than an arm's length away.

Her cell phone was clipped to it.

CJ looked around more, nearly passing out from the pain when she tried to look 'up', which at the moment was immediately behind her head. Slowly, she stretched an arm out, expecting at any moment to feel one of those dreaded feet come crashing down on her, shattering bones that were already bruised.

That didn't happen, but neither could her fingers touch the phone.

She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. _God, let me do this thing..._ The faint sound spiraled away, but reassured CJ enough to bend her leg--just her right one; there was no way she was doing anything with the left one right now--and push the heel of her foot against the pavement, nudging her just a bit closer to the precious items.

A faint slip of memory waved at her. _Bare feet? Wasn't I running? I think I usually wear shoes for that._ Then she decided she didn't want to look at that bit of information any longer, and stretched her arm out again, this time feeling fingers scrabble painfully against the phone.

_It hurts so much. I hurt so much. I just want to pass out. Or maybe die._

She had to call someone. Bringing the phone closer, she looked at it by turning her head a bit to study the buttons, letting her arm rest on the pavement rather than trying to challenge the pain-ridden limb by holding the phone directly in front of her face.

_Got to make a call. I wonder what time it is?_

CJ licked her lips a bit and thought through the pounding in and against her skull. The process of deciding this was almost soothing and even helped to distract her from why she was thinking about this in the first place.

_I'm hurt. I have no earthly idea where I am_--she shuddered--_but I need to call someone. Who do I call?_

Toby?

She flinched away from that. Toby wouldn't possibly be able to handle seeing her right now; what was more, she didn't know if she could handle seeing him. 

The President?

Absurd. She discarded that thought, along with the thought of calling Leo or Margaret. The former couldn't just waltz out of the White House, and the latter was likely to panic and tell the whole West Wing. Margaret was wonderful, but she was so chatty sometimes... that is to say, when she was awake. 

Josh?

He was probably too busy smacking around Congressmen or brooding about the hearings, and one could never tell whether he was going to realize this wasn't a prank before she lost it or passed out again.

Also, he was so very manly sometimes. 

Sam?

He's a man. Also, the chances that she'd be able to convince him not to panic and not to tell Toby were slim to none. 

Donna?

She turned that over in her mind for a minute. She didn't think she'd be afraid of Donna... the only real question was whether she'd be able to complete the call without Josh somehow finding out.

The pounding was getting louder. She had to call now. Painfully, she dialed for the line that went to Donna's desk; the general phone number of the Deputy Chief of Staff.

_Pick up_, she thought at the ringing. _Pick up before I pass out._

* * *

There was absolutely nothing unusual about the phone on Donna's desk ringing shortly after 11 o'clock in the morning. In fact, it'd been a fairly slow morning, which was to say pretty hectic by most office standards.

Donna stopped typing long enough to snag it. "Office of White House Deputy Chief of Staff," she said, resuming her finger dancing.

"Donna?" It was faint and pained, just above the level of a whisper.

She glanced around without losing the rhythm of her typing or the phone, noting it was practically deserted; everyone must have fled Josh or found an excuse to do so by cramming themselves into a meeting somewhere. Josh's door was closed and his meeting wasn't due to be done for another 15 minutes. "CJ? Where are you?"

"I... I don't know." Fear and pain trembled against each other for supremacy in the same voice that was capable of making reporters and staffers alike shake. Only it wasn't the same voice. Fear won out this time.

"CJ, what's wrong?"

"I'm..." there was a horrifically eloquent pause. Donna stopped typing completely and listened; she could hear the other woman breathing. "I'm hurt, Donna. It hurts."

There was such plaintiveness in the last word that Donna flinched with the force of it. "CJ, I can call an ambulance for you, but I don't know where you are."

"No! I don't know... whoever..." Sheer panic lost its battle to come across the distance as CJ's breath hitched. She wanted to say that she didn't want to be around strangers right now, not anyone... that she didn't know who to trust, so she called the same person who'd been able to take care of Josh. With the pain everywhere, and with unconsciousness hovering terribly close, CJ didn't have the energy to say any of that.

Donna frowned. It wasn't a usual frown; this was a look almost unique to Donna; a frown mixed with concern and sympathy and half a dozen other things. "What do you see around you?"

"What?" 

"CJ, what buildings are nearby? Can you hear traffic or anything? The river?" Donna's voice was gentle as she quizzed, while hoping that no one was standing where she couldn't see them, listening.

"Uh..." a pause, while Donna heard CJ's breath come sharper and surmised she must be looking around. "I'm going to sound like a bad cop movie. I'm in an alley... ways back from the curb... either side, there's an old warehouse... about three stories tall. I think."

Donna's eyes widened a bit, but she was grateful for her time exploring DC after she moved here, and the freakish memory Josh teased her about. "You do, but that's okay. Can you hang on 20 minutes, CJ?"

"I think. Okay if I... pass out?" There was no question that pain was winning the fight for CJ's voice.

"Yeah, just don't go anywhere. I'll be right there, okay?"

"...'K..." The line clicked.

Donna closed her eyes and set her own phone down. Josh was going to be mad at her, but he'd get over it. She saved the file she had been working on, and taped two different and identical messages to her cubicle. 'Out for early lunch. Will be back. Everything you need for next three meetings in orange folders.' 

She'd never gotten to her car so fast in her life. Donna found herself biting her lip as she drove through DC and forced herself to stop before she drew blood in her nervousness. CJ had sounded absolutely horrific on the phone--utterly and completely stripped of her composure.

Finally, she pulled up between two warehouses and looked down the alley, trying to suppress the feeling of having accidentally stumbled into a B-grade movie. The feeling vanished instantly when she saw someone lying about a hundred feet down the way. Donna looked around nervously, but took a deep breath and hoped she'd be able to get back away safely, and hopefully with CJ in tow.

Donna ran part of the way, but stopped short about ten feet from CJ. There was no question that it was her, but... 

She shivered, and the sunlight seemed to pale.

The abrupt stop of footsteps had evidently penetrated CJ's hazy perceptions. She snapped her eyes open, looking absolutely petrified. And in agony.

"CJ?" Donna had no idea how her voice carried to CJ--she could barely hear herself, but evidently it did, as CJ relaxed. Either that or she had given up, zoned out, or gone somewhere where it didn't matter anymore...

She approached slowly, trying not to make any noise on the pavement, and knelt. "CJ, what happened?"

The other woman looked right at her, then shuddered and closed her eyes. "Can you get me home?" 

"CJ, you've got to go to the hospital." Donna didn't have extensive medical training, but one sound she was acquainted with was the horrible sound of lungs that couldn't quite do their job properly.

Eyes snapped open again, blue fire blemished and pained, but still terrible.

"No! I don't want... anybody... touching me." Fear lanced through the broken voice and shattered visage.

The moment before Donna replied seemed to stretch out forever, as she looked into one of the worst horrors she could imagine. CJ was terrified, about to pass out, and Donna was pretty sure her reluctance to go to the hospital had as much to do with her position as with whatever it was that had caused the first two... and the fact CJ had called her instead of one of the guys was some indicator of what that cause was.

"CJ, I'll stay with you, but you've got to go to the hospital." This sounded suspiciously like the tone Josh described whenever he discussed The Rules Donna had inflicted on him during his recovery. 

Pause. "Okay," the assent came.

Donna stood and gathered CJ's wallet and phone. "Can you stand up at all?" She was none too eager to carry this very tall woman back to her car, but Donna wasn't petite and she was definitely determined.

"Maybe. Get on my... left side." She glanced down and saw the small puddle under CJ's left leg, and her eyes widened. Still, she knelt and wrapped one arm around CJ as she sat up, then slowly stood. CJ's breathing sounded even rougher, and she didn't even try to look where she was going, leaving steering completely to Donna as she lifted her left leg to dangle and started hopping on her right.

When they reached the car, Donna carefully opened the door and maneuvered CJ into the passenger seat. She knew the other should be lying down, but there wasn't anything to be done but get her to a hospital as soon as possible. Donna hesitated, hand on the door, and finally said, "CJ, is it okay if I call someone else and have them meet us there?" A flinch and glare was all she was met with. "CJ, I'm still going to stay with you, I promise... but someone else needs to know where you are. I was going to call Sam... is that okay?" 

After a moment of consideration that seemed to take forever to Donna's increasingly strained nerves, CJ nodded. Donna closed the door gently and got out her cell phone as she headed for the driver's door, got in, and pulled away.

* * *

_Ring._

Sam glared at the interruption to his rhythm. Toby might call it bad writing all he wanted, but once Sam got started, the imagery just flowed. And in utter contrast to last night, Sam was on an idealistic writing kick that could fuel half a dozen stump speeches.

"Should've told Bonnie or Ginger to hold my calls. Sam Seaborn."

"Sam, it's Donna." 

"No, Donna, I can't come to the next meeting; I'm writing, and you know Toby'll say..."

"Sam, something's come up. Can you meet me at GW as soon as possible?" 

"Donna, I can meet you anywhere except GW--" Sam paused as Donna's tone finally penetrated. He took his hands all the way off the keyboard and sat up even more. Before he could backstep, Donna spoke again.

"Dammit, Sam!" He actually rocked back a bit.

"Donna, I'm so sorry. I just... I was writing." He thought he heard traffic sounds for a second. "I'll be right there."

"Thanks. Be in the ER; if not, I'll talk someone into telling you where to go."

Sam smiled a bit. "I'm sure you will. You okay?"

"I'm fine. See you." Sam put the phone down too, wondering why Donna said she was fine if she needed to him to meet her at the emergency room. At least he'd have a reason to tell Bonnie to hold his calls now.

"Bonnie, I'm going out for a bit," he said, trotting out of the communications bullpen before she could reply or Toby could catch him and ask why exactly he was taking an early lunch when their world was crashing down.

* * *

It was 12:05 when Sam finally skidded into the emergency waiting area at GW. He would have been utterly joyous to never come within hailing distance of this hospital again, let alone in it, but here he was.

No Donna.

He walked up to the nearest desk. "Excuse me. I'm looking for Donna Moss."

"Your name, sir?"

"Sam Seaborn." He stifled the urge to pull out his White House ID.

"She told us to look for you. Nice young woman. Straight down that hall, take a right at the second corridor, then a left. First glass door."

"Thank you very much."

"You're welcome, sir." A phone rang and he found himself on the receiving end of a smile as the woman reached for it.

Down this hall? Sure. One corridor. Two corridors. A right, right? There was a long span of doorways before the next cross-corridor came along, and he turned left, then looked for a glass door.

_I hate this place so much._

Donna's back was to him... but she looked fine from here. What was going on? He knocked and let himself in, as she turned around and smiled a little.

"Donna?"

"Thanks for coming, Sam." She immediately stood up, looping her coat and purse around one arm, and aimed for the door. "Come on." 

"Donna, what is going on?"

She turned a little bit, and Sam very much thought he was going to have a heart attack or throw up. There were little spots of blood on her hands and along her right side, and part of the coat he hadn't been able to see as she stood up had a huge splotch of it.

The ten seconds while he stared stretched out infinitely. They say that a ten second earthquake is the longest ten seconds that can be experienced; this was going to beat that, he was sure.

"Donna, what happened!"

"Did you tell anyone you were coming?" 

"No, I escaped before Toby the Grouch could catch me. Donna, what the hell..."

"Then come on. I'll show you." No power could stop the young woman from whatever she was doing, so Sam consented to being almost pushed out the door and led through more and more corridors. He actually recognized this hallway... it had operating theaters. He'd come and looked at Josh briefly that night after Rosslyn.

"Donna, you've got... blood on you."

"Yeah, I know how to get it off. It can keep." She reached out with her left hand and drew him along more, through a set of swinging doors and finally stopping in front of an OR window. "I... I couldn't tell you, Sam. I need to go back in there in a little bit; I promised I'd stay. But one of you had to know..." she trailed off, eyes glimmering, and dropped her things.

Sam could only stare. There had to be a mistake... but there wasn't. Donna couldn't have brought him to the wrong place.

Was it possible to stretch out a moment of time until you wanted to do anything, even die, to make it stop? So that at least you wouldn't have to keep looking at your own nightmare scenario; one that, to your shame, was at the moment surpassing the sight of your best friend bleeding from a gunshot wound that was so very nearly fatal?

Sam felt himself caught up in such a moment, one that made him feel old and hurting and not at all the idealistic writer who'd been caught up in speeches less than an hour before.

Up till now, he would have said that there could be nothing worse than the President being shot and needing surgery, nothing worse than Josh bleeding with a collapsed lung and a perforated artery from a white supremacist's bullet, nothing worse than the President ever so carefully telling him that he had MS, nothing worse than ... than.

He'd stepped off the edge of the world.


	3. This Person Means A Lot To Us

A quick author's note: This chapter and the next contain the most references to CJ's injuries, making clear what they are & how she got them. I don't think it's enough to up the rating on this, but please be careful.

_This Person Means a Lot to Us_

Donna couldn't remember ever seeing such an example of 'frozen in shock'. Sam had stood still, emotions running all across his face, not moving a bit, hardly even to breathe, for at least five minutes now. She reached for some scrubs and tossed them on, then touched Sam's arm. "Sam? I'm going to go in there... I should be out in about half an hour, okay?"

He turned, finally, and looked at her. One of the most distinguishing things about Sam Seaborn was his eyes. They were a clear, expressive blue: definite affirmation to the idea that the window to the soul was the eyes. Now that window was filled with indescribable emotions, from grief to rage to shock. "What? Happened?" he finally got out. It was clear that it was taking a great effort to neither sink down on the floor nor go and beat up the first convenient object.

"I don't exactly know." Donna tightened her lips, rolling them between her teeth for a second, and then continued. "She called me about 11 and said she was hurt... I went and picked her up. It's not a place anyone in their right mind would go again. The trauma surgeon's going to give me the whole thing once she's done in there." 

"Is she going to make it?" Sam looked positively plaintive.

"Yes."

Sam dropped his head down. "I want to hear the whole thing too. And I need to call the White House soon..." He utterly dreaded that call, especially to Leo, who had been mad at CJ for days. And to Toby, who was likely to lose it a dozen different ways and not show it. Josh, flippant Josh, would freak once he realized it was for real. The President...

Especially to anyone _nothing_. He grimaced.

Donna seemed to observe some of what he was thinking. "I'll be helping, Sam. But I'm going back in there--the only way I could get her here at all without a fight or knocking her unconscious was to promise her I'd stay with her." 

"I'll just... stand out here. Where's the nearest bathroom, in case I lose it?"

"Further down the hall, on the right. Nice big sign." Donna opened the door and stepped out of his reach.

_CJ..._

Thoughts whispered as Sam watched and waited.

'I'm your first phone call.'

'I don't care what it is, I care what it looks like!' 

'You just said three things that all mean the same thing.' 

'Just don't say anything for...'

'I'm CJ Cregg. Pleased to meet you... yes, Toby brought me on board... you're writing with him? Good luck... Yeah, I'll be working on most of the press-related things...'

'Can I have my necklace back?' 

'Were you scared?'

'There are certain nuances I don't understand... like the census.'

'The flamingo is a ridiculous-looking bird.'

'Very high-profile, very visible, much-noticed member of...'

'Strength, guts, or courage...' 

_'Strength, guts, or courage...'_

'Three things that all mean the same thing.'

Sam closed his eyes and hung his head. Slowly, he noticed that his fists were clenched and his face was wet. Slowly, he relaxed his fists, then rubbed his face with his hands, and looked again.

_God. How could I have said that to her?_

General anesthesia might have made CJ unconscious, but it didn't do a thing for how stressed she looked. Sam wondered just how hard she'd been working to not show it... and if it was mostly from the MS thing, or had been building up all along. She just looked... stretched. Sam watched Donna stand near, not doing anything, face flitting between calm and near to tears. Sam was still sure that she looked calmer than he did, though. He was caught between gratitude that he knew before any of the other senior staffers, and anger that he didn't have anyone to stand with right now. He could only watch alone, gazing at what he never wanted to see: a friend on the operating table. And CJ actually looked worse than Josh, in a way: at least with Josh the damage had been localized to one place. Here, the team was very clearly working or had worked almost everywhere.

Sam took a breath, then rubbed at the pooling dampness in his eyes and bowed his head. It was all he could think of to do right then.

* * *

An hour later, Sam found himself back in the little room where he had first found Donna, looking at her with what he was sure was an utterly blank expression. The doctor had brought them here, then given them an extremely efficient and detailed rundown of what exactly CJ's injuries were.

He wondered if Donna was turning over the list in her head as he was. From her expression, it seemed likely, and just as likely that she was thinking of what they looked like as well. Sam didn't have that to burden his mind yet, at least. 

He shuddered.

Concussions.

Cut to the left calf muscle.

Lacerations on hands and feet.

Broken left wrist.

Sexual assault.

Broken jaw.

Two cracked ribs.

Three broken teeth.

Severe bruising on the right hand.

More bruises, scattered about.

Sexual assault.

It reverberated and shouted and demanded to be given attention.

He closed his eyes, then felt Donna take his hand. 

"Sam, are you here?"

"Yeah, I just... my God." He tilted his head back for a minute, trying to clear his mind a bit.

"Who do you want me to call first?" Whatever Donna had been through emotionally by seeing CJ at the scene and during surgery, she'd moved to the efficient and gentle (but unstoppable) core that let her keep Josh's office running, and sometimes Josh himself.

"I can make the calls..." Sam trailed off. "Except maybe for Toby." _Chicken._

Donna whipped out a piece of paper. "Let's think about this. How many messages are on your cell phone, though?"

He hadn't looked since turning it off an hour ago. "Critical capacity, I think. About a million, give or take a couple hundred thousand..."

"Okay, we'll think fast. I've got about fifty messages from Josh, since I've been on lunch for over two hours now. Who's first?"

* * *

The early afternoon staff meeting in Leo's office was even smaller than the early morning one.

"What is this, a federal holiday I don't know about?" Leo tossed his glasses on his desk in disgust and stood up, looking well and truly peeved. 

"We think it's federal Take a Long Lunch Day," Josh replied. "As well as federal Turn Off Your Cell Phone Day. I've left Donna about a hundred messages and even tried her home phone, but the lunch continues at, uh..." He checked his watch, and then continued, "the two-hour and thirty minute mark." 

"I've been trying to get in touch with Sam, but the last thing from him is to Bonnie about an hour ago. His explanation was worthy of a fourth-grader trying to get out of a late assignment without resorting to 'the dog ate my homework' excuse." Toby had that smile that wasn't a smile on his face. "Fortunately, we have a tape of the briefing, and I also have his notes for the meeting with Tolano in half an hour."

"Yeah. Josh..."

"I have notes for my next two meetings, but I have no idea where the ones after that are. Nor do I know where my assistant is, so I've had interns and random people answering my phone for two hours."

"Yeah. Who's going to do the afternoon briefing?"

"Not me," Josh said hastily, raising his hands.

"Josh, we would let a Martian brief the press before we would let you do it again." 

"Ouch." Josh stepped back.

"Simon can do it. The press will survive and perhaps even write some stories." 

"Yeah. Okay... get back to work, and find out where our missing trio went. And don't either of you leave without telling me, all right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Josh and Toby headed out. "Where do we look next?" Josh asked. 

"Hmm?"

"Toby. Where do we look next?" 

"I don't know. I have this meeting." Toby headed away from Josh before the younger man could ask again, and stalked through the bullpen. "Ginger!"

"Yeah?" Ginger was flipping rapidly through notecards.

"Any messages from or relating to CJ and Sam?"

"No. Want me to try their phones again?"

"Yes." Toby's door slammed shut.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Leo was sitting in a security briefing in the Oval when Charlie stepped in and handed him a folded note, then left.

Leo shot a frown of apology at the President as he slipped his glasses on and opened it. 'Margaret has phone call for you. ASAP, urgent.'

"Sir?" he said, accidentally interrupting someone. "I apologize, General. Mr. President, I have a call."

"Go. We'll be fine." 

"Thank you, sir." Leo strode into his office, quietly shutting the door before he called for Margaret.

"Line two, holding!"

"Thank you!" He shut the front door, too. Margaret was very good at what she did, but she also liked to eavesdrop. Sometimes that let her get something ready for him faster, but he was in no mood for it today.

"Yeah?" 

"Leo."

"Sam, what the hell are you--" 

"There's been a thing."

"There's going to be another thing if you don't get back here." Leo stopped suddenly. Sam's voice had been quiet and strained. "Sam? Are you all right?"

Sam laughed shortly with no humor, sounding almost exactly like Toby. "I'm fine, Leo."

"What's going on?"

"Donna's fine too, by the way. She's sitting right here... even offered to call for me. Listen..." There was a pause, as if Sam didn't want to say whatever was next. "We're at GW. CJ's hurt."

Leo's face went absolutely still, but his eyes suddenly conveyed a deep concern. "How badly is she hurt, Sam?"

"Pretty bad. She got out of surgery about half an hour ago."

"What happened and when?"

"I'm not sure. CJ called Donna about 11 and asked her to come, then Donna brought her here, which she says wasn't easy to do, and Donna called me shortly after noon. From what Donna's said, CJ didn't say a whole lot about what happened, but as for when, I would assume it happened before she was supposed to be at work."

Leo sat down, emotions whirling about that he couldn't all put a name to, but he knew one of them was guilt. Out of all of them, he'd been angriest at CJ for the Haiti screwup. "Do you know what her injuries are, Sam?"

"Yeah, the doctor was very thorough."

"And?"

There was a pause. "Leo, I don't know if..."

"Sam, I need to walk into the office next door and tell the President of the United States that his Press Secretary is in the hospital, and I don't even know what happened, let alone just how badly she's hurt." 

"Yeah." Leo heard Sam draw a breath. "It's just... somehow less real if I don't say it. She was attacked." Sam took another breath, filled with more determination, and took the plunge. "Multiple concussions, deep cut to the muscle of her left calf, broken jaw and left wrist, lacerations to her hands and feet, severe bruising on her right hand, two cracked ribs, three broken teeth, and..." Sam paused for a good thirty seconds, but Leo was too shocked to ask him to continue. The list was too long already. "... and sexual assault," Sam finally finished. 

A minute ticked by.

"Leo?" Sam sounded concerned.

"Holy hell," Leo whispered. "Holy hell. CJ..."

"Yeah." Sam's mournful tone had returned. "Donna was going to call Josh and Toby after we got off."

"No, that's okay, Sam... I'll take care of it."

"Are you sure?" Sam still sounded relieved, though.

"Yeah."

"Is it okay if we let Carol know?"

"Give her the brief version and tell her to keep it under wraps, will you?"

"Thanks. Where do you want us after that?"

"At least one of you should stay there, probably you, since Josh is threatening to lose all organization without Donna."

There was a brief pause while the two of them exchanged words quietly. Finally, Donna's voice came. "Leo, I promised CJ I'd stay with her. It was the only way I could get her here without problems."

"Donna..." Leo rubbed his forehead. "Okay, but turn your cell back on and expect a call from Josh or about Josh, all right? He's been calling about where the next notes for his meetings later on are." 

"Thank you, Leo. Here's Sam."

"Sam, how long before we get a question on this?"

"We might have until this evening before people find out, actually. It's... not easy to recognize CJ right now."

Leo decided he didn't want to know, and pushed that thought away. "Keep in touch."

"I will."

"Thanks, Sam." Leo dropped the receiver and just sat there for a minute. "Margaret!" he finally called. The door opened, and Margaret popped in, waiting and looking at him as she always did. "Tell Josh and Toby I need them in here in ten minutes."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Thanks." She popped back out, closing the door.

Slowly, Leo stood up and retraced his path, finally opening the door to the Oval.

"... and, Mr. President, there's every indication that this rearrangement of forces will actually stabilize the region's economy."

"Sir?" Leo interjected. That one word said it all, as the President looked up at his friend. That one word, and the utter stillness of Leo's expression, looking older and more held in check than a few minutes ago.

"We're done. Thanks." The President stood up and walked to the desk, tossing the files and his glasses on it, as the various military advisers filed out. Charlie almost immediately appeared at the door.

"Mr. President..."

He shook his head. "Hold them for a few minutes, please, Charlie?" 

"Yes, sir." The door clicked shut.

"What is it, Leo?"

"I just got off the phone with Sam." 

Had Leo's expression not been so grave, such a statement would have been met with his boss's dry and annoyed humor. He knew they'd had a case of disappearing staffers today. Instead, he just said, "What's going on?"

"He's at the hospital with Donna and CJ."

Bartlet seemed to lean backwards a bit. "How badly are they hurt, Leo?"

"I misspoke, sir. Sam and Donna are there with CJ. She was apparently assaulted this morning."

Suddenly, the President's face matched his friend's for stillness, and lines reappeared that were ordinarily almost invisible. Nevertheless, he amended his question. "How badly is she hurt, Leo?"

"Sir, I asked Sam the exact same question five minutes ago, and he said it was somehow less real if he didn't actually say it." Leo took in the moment, shaking his head. "I think I had to ask him twice, too." 

"Leo..." His best friend paused. "I have a good imagination. Don't let it keep running on like this." 

"Sir, this is one of those times when the truth is probably worse."

"It's totally unlike you to beat around the bush like this, my friend."

Leo looked out the window and noted again the perfect day. "This is a situation totally unlike any other, sir. Sam will be leaving the hospital to come back here in the next 45 minutes or so. I'm telling Josh and Toby after I'm done here."

"Which you won't be until you tell me how badly our Claudia Jean has been hurt." Bartlet looked both presidential and fatherly, leaning back and forth expressively as he spoke, although it was hard to tell whether he was aware of his use of the possessive. "Leo, it's taken you less time to tell me that we're on the brink of World War III. It certainly took you less time to tell me that a very dear friend was dead, not that long ago."

"You're right, sir." Leo took on an even grimmer aspect. "I hope you won't long for ignorance, sir, because here it is: Multiple concussions, two cracked ribs, three cracked teeth, broken left wrist, lacerations to hands and feet, severe bruising to the right hand, deep cut to the left calf, broken jaw, and-" Leo stopped so abruptly he nearly bit his tongue. He couldn't say it.

The President had gone pale during the recitation, and his face took on a fiercer set. That didn't keep him from asking, though. "And what, Leo?"

Leo looked down at the Oval carpet. He didn't feel right saying it, not here in the Oval, possibly not anywhere in the White House. He knew he wouldn't be the first, but somehow, the very idea of saying it tainted the ideals he strove for: that in this free country, there was this regard in which women couldn't pursue happiness the same way as the men; that there was this possibility, still unchecked after two centuries, which somehow reduced their other humanitarian accomplishments.

Leo McGarry felt himself lesser if he spoke it here.

Finally, Leo looked up, and met the concerned and furious gaze of his longtime friend. His hazel eyes were horrifically eloquent.

He had been spared speaking it. The President understood.

"No... " He shook his head in fury. 

Slowly, he strode behind his desk and gazed out the window for a good two minutes, then turned around and planted his hands on the desk with such force that Leo actually jumped.

"What right have we," the leader of the free world queried, "to send peacekeeping forces across the globe, to dictate what is and is not permissible, to refuse to follow dozens of international sensibilities, to proclaim ourselves the greatest nation in the world and the leader of nations, _when we can't protect our citizens in this most basic, fundamental, driving need for safety? When our citizens cannot walk our streets unharmed? Dammit, Leo_!" 

Leo just looked at him again and nodded. There was nothing he could add.

"You're telling the other guys?" Executive fury was simmering after the outburst rather than at full boil, glinting and intimidating.

"Yes, sir. Donna should also be telling CJ's assistant any time now, without all the details."

"All right. Come back after you've told Josh and Toby, with them if you think it necessary. I'm going to squeeze in another meeting while I can, because I sure as hell won't be sitting here the rest of the day."

Leo wasn't going to try to argue with him; it was one of the best things about this President, his ability to love people. "Thank you, sir," he said, and exited to his own office.

"Margaret! Send them in if they're here." Josh and Toby came in. "Take a seat, you guys."

"But I have a-" they protested in unison.

"It'll get covered. Take a seat." Leo folded his arms and surveyed the pair from in front of his desk. "I'm going to make this as quick as I can, because I think that's better for both of you than dragging it out." Two pairs of chocolate eyes suddenly fixed on him with some concern.

Leo could never remember afterwards what exactly he said, although he presumed it was all he knew up to that point, as he had intended. When he closed his mouth, he would have thought he hadn't said anything but for the passage of time and the looks on Josh and Toby's faces.

They were torn between outrage and tears, and one of them like that was a handful at the best of times.

Josh was looking for ways to guilt himself. "She could have called me, too."

"She really couldn't have, Josh." Leo sounded positively rusty; he was sure he'd have to go through this again at least a couple of times.

"I could have taken her home last night... then maybe she would have been okay."

"Josh, it happened this morning."

"Someone should have told us before now!"

"Josh." Toby paused after speaking as though he wasn't certain why he had, moving his lips soundlessly. Josh stopped his agitating for a minute and looked at him, then shot a pleading glance at Leo.

"But why was Sam the one who-" 

"It's possible that Donna felt he was the one least likely to go storming all over town with an axe instead of actually going to the hospital as requested, Josh!" Leo had his classic 'what do you want from me' expression with some anger thrown in. "Toby, how long can Simon do the briefings?"

Toby shifted his gaze around. "He could probably last a little over a week if he only does one briefing a day."

"Divvy them up with Sam and Carol." Leo got no further before Josh lost control of himself again, guilt changing rapidly to some less attractive emotions now.

"Sam? Is he coming back? 'Cause, you know, somebody has to do some more meetings and the other briefing to put the lid on..."

"He should be heading back shortly. I'm having the assistants wrap up your respective meetings, with the White House's profound apologies. We can't move all of them, though."

"Why not?" Josh's people side was out in full force, and his political side was apparently in need of a shock.

"We can't stop running the country because CJ's hurt," Toby returned for Leo.

Josh flopped back onto the cushions, staring at the ceiling.

"Toby's right. I told the President and he's doing another meeting not five minutes after he found out. We're all affected, Josh, but we have to be a friend by being a colleague too." Leo waited a beat for that to sink in, watching Josh with concern. He did have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, after all... and just because music was the trigger last December didn't mean it was now. "Donna's expecting your call whenever, Josh. Toby, I don't know what we'll need, but if you could start on a statement of some kind..." 

"I'm on it." The pen was nearing the middle of the page already.

"Mr. President," Leo suddenly greeted the soundless shadow standing near the door to the Oval. "I thought you were having another meeting, sir."

"They were annoying me, so I kicked them out." Bartlet's tone wasn't flippant. "Actually, it took less time than I expected, and it turned out the next guy just needed to give me something, or maybe he was too scared by the office to say anything. So I thought I'd see how the three of you were doing."

"Thank you, sir," Toby answered.

"I've been better, Mr. President." 

"Yeah, whatever. Come on over and sit down. You too, Leo."

"Leo," Josh said suddenly as they were seating themselves.

"Yeah?" Gaze met gaze.

"I'm sorry about earlier. It's just... she means a lot to..." Josh waved a hand.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, too."

"What for?"

"That this keeps happening."

After a few minutes, Josh excused himself to call Donna, returning about ten minutes later. "She wouldn't tell me anything more," he grumbled when he came in. Resuming his seat, he looked around at the other three quiet men and sat back, sighing.

They continued to sit like that, thinking their own thoughts, for nearly twenty more minutes. Every once in a while, the silence would be broken as one man or the other shifted his legs, or folded or unfolded his arms. Apart from that, and the sound of the clock, it was incredibly quiet. 

Finally--later each of them said it was at least a week between when they came in and sat down and when the door opened--Charlie said, "Mr. President? Sam's here."

"Good. Send him in." The President and Leo stood up as he came in. "Sam," the President greeted. "Thank you for coming back."

"Of course, sir. I, ah," Sam seemed lost for a moment, "don't know what you need me to do, though." 

"There's some staffing to cover," Leo responded. 

Sam didn't lose the worried and sad look, but he almost visibly shifted into work mode. "Simon and I are splitting the briefings?"

"Close. Simon's doing one a day for a bit; you and Carol are splitting the other ones. After about a week, we'll see where we are."

"There's also some writing to be done," Toby added.

"Okay. Anything else?" 

"Sam, you seem pretty eager to do a lot of work. Are you all right?" Leo asked.

Sam nodded. "I mean, I'm not, but I want to work... give CJ less work when she comes back, and more stories to tell her."

"Could the rest of us see her first, please?" Josh put in very abruptly.

"Josh!" 

"He's already been at the hospital for two hours! It'd be nice if the rest of us had some time, too!"

"I was also going to say, Josh," Leo grated, "that assuming it's okay on all fronts, Sam could stay a bit late so we could each go for an hour or so."

"Whatever."

Sam flushed and turned to Josh. "If you had any-"

The President suddenly asked "When do you think I could go?" It was pretty clear he was asking Leo, but he was loud enough to effectively shut down other conversation for the moment, as was no doubt his intention. Sam was nearly red and Josh was cherry-colored, while Toby looked ready to grab a lamp and hit someone, and even Leo was a little flushed and angry.

"I'll ask Ron Butterfield, sir, but don't get your hopes up. You may have to send the First Lady as your proxy."

"Yeah, I've heard that before." The President surveyed the room, making definite eye contact. "She means a lot to all of us. Why don't we work in that spirit instead of fighting in it? Also, my next appointment is probably here."


	4. I've Never Felt Like This Before

Author's note: See previous chapter. Also, Josh is a... well, to be honest, he's quite a bastard in this chapter and the next, but he redeems himself in time. So if you love Josh... you may hate this chapter. Or maybe not.

_I've Never Felt Like This Before_

CJ could feel herself struggling.

It was happening again, or it was still happening?

Hands gripped her wrists and arms harshly, pulling her even as she tripped. She couldn't cry for help, because...? Because. Her mouth wouldn't open.

She squirmed and kicked fiercely, and suddenly pain flamed along her jaw and in her mouth, and a second later rough pavement crashed through her brain. She lay there for a second, then tried to move a little bit.

The hands reappeared, roughly gripping and tearing. When it eased for a second, she bucked up recklessly and found her feet for a moment.

At first she thought her lower left leg had fallen off, and then she almost wished it had. She couldn't put any weight on that leg at all, not even to roll over and protect herself a little, for a little while.

Dimly, CJ felt a weight on her, and swung her right hand out, fingers bared, and felt it hit something.

Hands were back, holding her right arm just below the wrist, pounding and pounding.

That pavement hurt. She wanted to scream, but squirmed again instead. Or maybe she writhed. 

Now there were feet.

And the hands were still there. 

CJ couldn't move--the feet moved her.

Finally, she ended up nearly flat again, gasping.

Weight again.

It was too much. Her ribs were going to snap. Or had they already? 

Slowly, she moved her left arm, trying to dislodge some of the weight.

Hands.

And weight.

Her left wrist twisted painfully with the hand, and she felt another hand below her waist. Slowly, it eased upward to places no one was supposed to touch.

She tried to move, but everything hurt too much.

Oh. No, it didn't.

This hurt too much, this piercing pain. 

Hands.

Pain.

CJ finally screamed.

Voices, two of them.

She hadn't heard voices before.

One was...

She cried out again in pain and fear. Memory does not relinquish easily.

One was a woman, fairly young. Donna? She remembered calling Donna.

But who was the other one?

It was distinctly male, but she couldn't identify it.

CJ withdrew herself, hearing her own whimper.

Restlessly, her hands moved, and she moved her head back and forth a little, shuddering.

No more hands now. Just the voices, soothing and quiet.

So that was why she'd been able to actually scream... 

"CJ? You there?" Donna sounded immensely concerned. 

She shivered. Felt the blanket as best she could. And winced as she remembered calling Donna. Not much after that, though.

An eternity later, she felt like she could open her mouth and not have a scream come out automatically.

"Donna?" She pried her eyes open. Donna's pale face, blue eyes, and blonde hair met her, although a little blurry.

"CJ!"

"What... where...?"

"George Washington University Hospital, CJ. You're being cared for... do you remember what happened?" CJ flinched hard. "Stupid question. I'm sorry... it's the concussions, the doctors were worried."

"Doctors?" CJ was suddenly scared.

"I stayed with you the whole time, except for the few minutes I was waiting for Sam. And the lead doctor was a woman... it's okay, CJ."

CJ lay there for a second and tried to control her panting. There had been more hands all over her... she shivered. "Hurts," she finally managed.

"Yeah. They left a little control thingy... just a second." Donna moved away a bit, and tapped something with one finger. "There. It might not help much, though; they didn't want to give you much, what with the head injuries." 

"Little better. Thanks." She suddenly looked around. "I heard voices. You and a man..." she trailed off, making a face she knew made her look like a little girl. Well, she was as scared as one.

"Oh. We were trying to decide whether to get a nurse. It's just Leo, CJ, see?" Donna moved, revealing Leo, standing near the door and trying to be invisible. 

CJ squinted. "Can't see who it is..." her breathing intensified again.

Donna turned around. "Leo? CJ can't see you. Come on."

Slowly, the Chief of Staff came over, with the exact same expression he'd had when he told her about the President's MS. This time it was for her, though. She felt herself relax a little bit, and pain went through her. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath; it hurt her ribs to exhale that much. CJ looked away until she felt like she might not start crying from it. "Leo?"

"Hey, kid." His voice was soft, almost whispery, but there was no mistaking the care in it. "How you doing?"

"Bad day." Her jaw reminded her that it was even less up to speed than she was, and she winced again. 

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't be making you talk so much," Donna said with her worry frown.

"'S... okay." CJ blinked a little. "Sleep?"

"We don't mind if you sleep."

"Oh. You too?"

Donna shrugged. "I'm okay, I've been able to nap." CJ gave her the best disbelieving stare she could manage, but Donna just smiled reassuringly.

Leo reached over. "Okay if I...?" He didn't finish; CJ's flinch in the opposite direction was enough of an answer. "Oh, CJ, I'm so sorry."

She hoped her expression was actually saying 'It's okay' as much as she was trying for. He looked like he'd been slapped.

"I'll be okay here," Donna told Leo.

"You're sure?" 

"Yeah."

Leo looked down at CJ; her eyes were partly closed, but he could tell she was still awake. "CJ? I'm going back to the West Wing." He hesitated, but the President had all but demanded he do this one thing, since he hadn't been able to come in himself. "The President asked me to do this... is it all right if I kiss you? On the forehead?"

She nodded. "No hands," she murmured. Leo bent over and kissed a spot of unbruised flesh, his lips barely brushing her skin. 

"It'll be okay, CJ," he said, and left.

It was the last thing CJ heard before she fell asleep again.

* * *

Josh had gone to the hospital first. He stayed for exactly an hour, then came back and worked until very late. Donna said he hadn't said a word the entire time, just sat in the room and fidgeted, alternately watching CJ very closely and carefully not looking at her at all.

Toby went next, apologizing for letting Donna sit by herself the extra ninety minutes it took him to finish part of the President's statement and disentangle himself from two extra meetings he didn't want to participate in, and wouldn't have wanted to participate in even if he hadn't been going to sit by a friend's hospital bed.

Donna was so surprised by Toby's apology that she actually hugged him, and they sat and talked. Not about CJ, at least not after the first ten minutes, and not directly. No, they were talking about Josh's reaction. He had been very nearly jealous, although Toby admitted he might have been tempted to say some of it himself if Josh hadn't dashed there first. And the quiet bothered both of them; a quiet Josh was, well, incredibly unusual. Eventually, Toby pretended to notice that he'd stayed much longer than an hour, and told Donna that Leo would be along as soon as he could manage it.

Toby was disappointed CJ didn't wake up while he was there; Josh was relieved.

Leo almost wished he'd given CJ an out at some point during the last fourteen months when she woke up. She looked even more injured and vulnerable awake than she had while she was unconscious. And the utter terror in her eyes and face, especially when he reached for her hand, had been almost blistering. Leo knew that for all the stress that sometimes came between them, CJ trusted him as much as she trusted the guys, if in a slightly different way. He didn't have the same propensity for playing practical jokes on her as Sam and Josh.

So Leo gave her a gentle kiss and went back to the White House, told Sam to head over to the hospital if he felt able, just to see if his presence there might make Donna feel more inclined to at least take a real nap, and went to the Residence. He was relieved to see that at least Charlie had apparently left for the night; there was a pretty good chance the average amount of sleep among the senior staff was going to hit a new record low, which he hadn't thought would be possible. 

Jed and Abbey looked up when he entered. "How'd it go?" he asked, setting a glass on the low table.

"Could have gone better," Leo replied obliquely, taking a seat across from the First Couple.

As he expected, Abbey responded first. "That's not a real answer, Leo," she told him. "Did she wake up?"

"Yeah."

"That's good," Jed said, smiling a little. "That's very good. How is she?"

Leo stilled, and looked at him. Grief was written all over his face. Abbey figured it out in short order. "How bad?"

"Pretty bad."

Bartlet looked from one to the other. "Could one of you translate for me, please?" he requested. "We'll start with the part where CJ waking up is bad."

"Sir, we're going to need someone who can act as Press Secretary for an indeterminate amount of time."

"What? I mean, Leo, this is CJ. She's a tough lady. This is our CJ we're talking about, right, not some other CJ?"

"Jed," Abbey interposed. "CJ won't let anyone touch her; she's scared of everyone, isn't she, Leo?" 

"Pretty much, yeah. She looked scared of Donna a couple of times. And..." Leo trailed off, shaking his head. CJ hadn't screamed much, but those sounds would stay with him forever.

"Leo, don't trail off on me like that."

"I apologize, sir. It's just... I was able to give your much-relayed kiss, by the way. It may have been because she was falling back asleep at the time, though." Leo shot Abbey a look. He'd be a happy man if he never had to discuss it again.

"See, Jed? It's not as bad as Leo over here is making it out to be; you know how pessimistic he is sometimes," the First Lady tried to redirect. 

Unsuccessfully, to no one's particular surprise. Abbey wasn't at full persuasive power this evening.

He wanted to know what was going on. "Leo, and what? Why do I need a temporary Press Secretary? Why is CJ scared of people now and wasn't when Donna got her?"

"I think she's scared now, sir, because she's remembered what happened in excruciating detail, and doesn't want any reminders. Donna was about to run down the hall yelling for someone when CJ actually regained consciousness; she said she hadn't seen CJ act anything like it before. I just think she's going to need some space." Leo's tone took on a deeper, painful note. "The reason I say she's remembered, sir, is that she was pretty upset the few minutes before she came around. It's a sight I wish I could forget." He shook his head.

Bartlet was silent for a minute. "I want to go see her," he finally said quietly. 

"Sir... I didn't actually come up here just to talk about CJ."

Abbey lifted her eyebrows and gestured with them. Leo shook his head. "It's actually about Josh's reaction, sir."

"Oh?" The President leaned forward. "There's been something besides his reaction in the Oval?" 

"Yes, Mr. President. He's gone from one Josh extreme to the other, and that's never a good sign, based on the one time it's really happened before."

* * *

Donna was contemplating CJ, leaning a little on the bed, when Sam came in.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Leo sent me so you'd take a nap."

"That was predictable." She rolled her eyes.

"Also understandable. It's after midnight now."

"It is?" She looked at her watch, surprised. "CJ might wake up again, though."

Sam found another chair and sat down. "I'll wake you up."

Donna just sat and smoothed CJ's blanket down in several places, then traced random patterns on it.

"Donna?" Sam was deeply concerned. Not even after Josh was shot had she avoided eye contact this way.

"She's not like our CJ, Sam," she whispered. "Can you imagine CJ scared? Petrified of Leo or me touching her hand?"

"What?" 

"She woke up while Leo was here--he probably told you that--but what else did he tell you?"

"Just that she had a lot of healing to do. I thought he was referring to what we could see; it was the first time he's seen CJ." Sam looked at the bandages, braces, and casts, and the apparently omnipresent bruises. "Why?"

"She had a nightmare. Right before she woke up. Sam-" Donna suddenly found herself unable to speak further, just like Leo. "Sam, she remembered; I don't think it was a nightmare. She was just too scared. She said 'no hands.'"

Sam shuddered. When he found his voice, it was surprisingly reassuring. "Donna, she won't be like this forever. If we stick with her, she'll... I don't know, but we'll do what it takes, okay?" He found himself almost chuckling. "Any woman who can handle two turkeys in her office and threaten to break our kneecaps if we're stupid can come back from this."

Donna smiled at the memory. "Okay, I'll take a nap," she finally agreed, "but wake me up if CJ does anything, okay? And make sure you stay close enough that she can see who you are."

"Right." Donna tucked herself into an odd-looking position, and Sam settled in the closer chair.

"Did Josh go home?" Donna asked after fifteen minutes.

"I thought you were sleeping." 

"Can't. Did he?"

"I think so. He worked like a madman after he came back, you know."

"A madman is right. Did he say anything to anybody at all?"

Sam thought about it for a second. "I don't think so," he admitted.

Donna sighed. "Okay. I hope he'll be all right... I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Donna, sleep so I can go home?"

"Yeah." She dropped her head down, and her breathing changed after a few minutes.

Sam stroked the blanket covering CJ, much as Donna had earlier. It was the closest he dared get right now.

* * *

Late the next morning, Donna was back, watching CJ as some nurses moved about the bed. CJ had woken very briefly a couple of times during the night, but had finally told Donna to at least go home and clean up around 6 am or so. Now, Donna watched the bed with worry; the nurses were checking dressings and several other things, and she was really hoping CJ wouldn't wake up while they were here. 

Toby appeared behind her. "Morning. What are they-" 

"Usual hospital stuff," she answered. "I'm watching to see if she's about to wake up again."

"The touching thing?" Toby asked. His voice implied a long and violent death to whoever caused this if he saw them. "Leo gave us a quick briefing on it this morning while kicking Josh's ass." 

"Yeah, that. And I heard about Leo yelling at Josh when he got back from staff. I'm surprised the door is still on its hinges." Donna tucked her hair back again. "Do you think she'll get over it?"

"You don't get over something like this," Toby told her in a deep, quiet, intense voice. "You never get over it... but do I think that with a great deal of patience, caring, and attention, and possibly some love, CJ can live a fairly normal life by the end of the year? Yes, Donna, I do." 

Donna turned and hugged him again. "That's like what Sam said last night," she whispered. "I thought it was just Sam being optimistic."

"It still could have been that." Donna smiled at that.

CJ turned her head restlessly.

Donna, recognizing the motion from yesterday, was there quickly. "Please give her a minute?" she asked one of the nurses, who stepped back. "CJ? It's okay, wake up..."

CJ came awake rapidly, trying to sit up and flailing her arms. Donna actually jumped back a bit, then came closer again. "CJ, look at me, please?"

"Voices," CJ whispered frantically. "Hands. It hurts..." Her face scrunched up like a little girl who was scared of a monster under her bed. Only she wasn't a little girl, and the monster was right there inside her, not able to be banished by a caring parent looking under the bed and scaring it out.

"CJ, it's okay, it really is. It's the hospital staff, and I've been here the whole time. It's okay, nobody's hurting you. Please look at me."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and tears dripped down the side of her face. Finally, she turned her head a little and looked at Donna. "No," she begged, though it wasn't clear what she wanted to stop.

Donna stretched her hands out in front of CJ. "See?" she asked. "What was next?"

"We were about to check the IV line and the cast," responded one of the nurses.

"Okay. CJ, lift your arm a little bit, okay? Now see?" Donna moved her hands carefully closer to CJ's own. Finally, her right hand landed on CJ's left, and she felt the IV line carefully, very slowly. "See? Nobody's going to hurt you."

Gradually, CJ's breathing had slowed as Donna felt over the IV. She shivered, but tried to remember that this was different. "Okay. Just one person?" Donna looked at one of the nurses for assent, then started to move away to give the nurse room to work. CJ's response was immediate. "Donna, please?"

Carefully, Donna sat back down. "I wasn't going to run away, CJ."

"Know. Just..." she fell silent and shook her head, trying not to shudder or flinch or do anything else as the nurse finished her checking and added another round of painkillers to the IV line.

"Who was talking?" she asked once the door had closed again.

"The nurses were talking some, and Toby and I were talking for a minute or so."

CJ moved her head a little. "Tobus?" she queried, her voice an unidentifiable mix of feelings.

He came up to the bed and just stood there, as unthreateningly as possible. "Yeah, CJ, it's me."

"I'm sorry. There's so much-"

"CJ, you don't need to apologize for anything. It's okay."

"Briefings?"

"Sam did the first one, then Simon, and now they're splitting with Carol. It's okay, CJ. You get better... it's okay. We've got it covered." 

"Good. Not up to... the press corps now." Had that been a smile?

If it was, Toby returned it. "No, we wouldn't allow it. CJ..." He shifted. Toby was a very expressive man, but he was also a little uncomfortable right now; he wanted to take CJ's hand, give her a kiss, and just sit for a while, and he couldn't do any of that. There were two reasons: CJ's feelings, and some damn meeting back at the White House.

CJ looked at him for a minute, then did something extraordinary, which Donna would have believed impossible for a week after last night. Slowly, she lifted her left hand (the lesser of two discomforts, since at least most of the left one wasn't bruised, even if part of it was in a cast) and reached for Toby's hand.

He reacted with surprise. "CJ, I'm sorry. I, uh-" he started to stick his hands in his pockets. He'd had no idea CJ could see where his hands were.

She shook her head. "No. It's... it's okay. Please?" Toby stilled and let his hands drop back to where they were. Slowly, CJ's hand advanced, and touched the back of Toby's hand, very lightly. She immediately looked uncomfortable, but continued to look that direction, and finally said, "Not too bad if I do it... got to see."

"Congratulations, CJ," Toby whispered. He held absolutely motionless, not wanting to accidentally frighten her by twitching a hand. "Can I give you a kiss?" he asked after a couple minutes.

"Got to leave?" CJ was familiar with his tone of voice and body language.

"I'd rather stay here, but the country calls," he returned.

"Yeah, it's okay." He bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Toby."

Donna came up to the bed again after Toby shut the door. "CJ, can I...?" she asked.

For a minute, she thought CJ had fallen asleep again, or drifted off into her own world. But slowly, her left hand turned over so the palm was up. With a relieved sigh, Donna put her hand very lightly in CJ's.

Perhaps Sam and Toby had been right. If they were, the world was closer to being righted again.

* * *

The next evening, the President strode down the hospital hallway, recalling the arguments that brought him here.

"He's going to keep kicking people out of his office randomly during meetings," Leo had told Ron. "Either that, or subjecting them to an hour of trivia. We can secure the hospital, Ron; did it before with a lot less notice."

Jed had tilted his head. "Leo, my friend, did you know that cirque glaciers tend to be about a tenth the size of valley glaciers? Of course, they're all minuscule compared to continental ice sheets..."

"I'm sure you'll be happy to tell me all about it at some point, sir, and may I remind you that I'm on your side in this?"

"And if I tell you about glaciers, that may change?"

"Just a bit, yes."

At that point, Ron had thankfully interrupted and conceded that they could secure the hospital long enough for a short visit; no longer than half an hour. "It's not just your safety, sir," he'd added. "It's also the inconvenience to the hospital; unlike when we secure almost any other area, there's the potential for it to become a problem for them." 

"Thank you," the President had said, relieved. After Ron left, he turned to Leo. "Who's been visiting?" 

"Besides myself, Sam, Toby, Donna and the other assistants have been making regular visits, and Charlie came by after work last night, I think. She's rarely alone, sir."

That wasn't the angle the President had had in mind. "No Josh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows almost dangerously. It was curiously close to one of his fatherly looks.

"Not a peep since the first day, sir. We'll just have to hope." And they'd left it at that.

"Jed?" Abbey said from his side. "We're here." _Get your head back here and away from the Visigoths_, her tone said. He wondered if Charlie had learned the tone from her. 

"Right."

He drew a shocked breath, hearing one of the agents close the door behind him. Beside him, Abbey made a small, eloquent sound of distress.

Sam immediately stood. "Good evening, sir."

"Keeping watch, Sam?" The President's tone was almost light, but his face was not.

"Yes, sir." The younger man approached. "I'm assuming you know about all the, uh-" he cleared his throat.

"Injuries? And the other thing?" Bartlet spread his hands a bit.

Sam nodded. "Yes, sir. She's been in and out of it--sometimes she'll allow a touch, other times she absolutely won't. Like when the nurses came by again earlier," he grimaced. He'd called Donna, panicked, after that to ask what he could do and if there was anything anyone else could do. She'd told him to just be patient, and said only two nights ago had been worse. "That's why she's still sleeping; they had to sedate her."

"Good God." He looked at the sleeping figure. "Thank you, Sam."

"Good night, Mr. President." Sam collected some folders and a legal pad, then headed for the door. "She does look better, sir." 

Bartlet did not respond, save to level one of his most powerful gazes at the writer. Sam sped up his beeline for the door. 

"What do we do now?" Jed asked his wife.

"We sit, we wait, and we be ourselves, Jed."

"That doesn't sound too hard." They pulled the chairs next to each other and clasped hands, watching.

"She does look better than the first day," Abbey said after a few minutes.

"How can you tell?"

"Honey, I'm a doctor. I could translate what I heard into what it looked like, and CJ looks like you'd expect right now."

"So for this, she's normal?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Figures." Pause. "How isn't she normal?"

"Mostly psychologically, Jed. She wouldn't let her brothers come because she didn't want them to see her like this. The hands are a little unusual too, at least to this degree."

"I didn't know that about her brothers."

"Lots you don't know, pumpkin."

"There's lots I do know." He turned to her and smiled just a bit.

"I know that too." 

"Just as long as we're clear on that." The President sat back, crossed his legs, and sighed.

Time ticked by.

CJ sighed restlessly, and they both sat up, watching, not moving any closer. They were close enough for her to be able to focus on them, but not too close. After another minute or so, CJ's right hand strayed restlessly across the blanket, then sank back. 

Finally, her eyes snapped open, and she gasped loudly. The Bartlets both jumped, and Abbey cautiously said, "CJ? Are you here?"

Her head turned quickly, and she focused on them. "Ma'am," she said first. "Mr. President," she added a few seconds later, abruptly trying to get herself up.

"Whoa there," the First Lady said, getting up and bending carefully over CJ. "It's all right; just lay down. We just stopped in for a bit."

CJ nodded and settled back down. "Sir?" she asked after a minute.

The President automatically stood up, then checked himself, and looked at the two women. Abbey was watching CJ's eyes. "I think it'll be okay, Jed. Is it all right, CJ?" she added.

"Mm-hmm." CJ turned her eyes to the President when he hovered carefully over her. "Sir, I don't know if I can do this." She shivered.

"We'll be helping you, Claudia Jean, I swear it," Bartlet responded. "You've survived everything up until now; we'll help you with this."

To his surprise, a definite if faint smile flickered on her face. "Can't argue with the President," she murmured.

"Well, you can, but don't spread it around, all right?"

"Too late for that; the whole White House knows..."

Abbey intervened before Jed could make a comeback. "How's your jaw?" she asked. "You seem to have a fair amount of movement."

CJ nodded. "The break isn't too bad, they said."

"That's a relief. Is there anything in particular...?" Abbey lifted an eyebrow. 

"Just how to write," CJ said, sounding annoyed. "Why was I out?"

"Sam said you were upset when the nurses were here earlier."

"Oh. Oh, I remember." CJ looked embarrassed. "Is it going to go away?" she asked Abbey.

"Yes, CJ, it will."

"Thanks." CJ seemed to think for a moment, then turned to the President. "Sir, you have trivia, don't you?"

"Why, yes, I do, CJ. Historical this time." He looked eager to launch into some obscure topic.

"I appreciate it, sir, but I'm sleepy." 

He wasn't deterred and just grinned. "Another time?" 

"Yeah." She took a careful deep breath and let it out. Abbey leaned over automatically to pull up her blanket more; CJ stiffened a little and watched her very carefully, but showed no other reaction.

"Good night, CJ."

"Good night, sir, ma'am." And her eyes slowly closed.

The President stood back up all the way. "Well?"

The First Lady smiled. "Yes, well, Jed."

"Good. I was worried..." he shook his head.

"You have to be up in five hours, pumpkin."

"Our half hour is up anyway. Let's go before Ron gets upset."

"You mean before you fall asleep," she came back, shutting the door as they came into the hallway.

Jed just emitted a relieved sigh. That was one thing he'd been afraid of going worse.

* * *

Nearly three days later, Carol came to CJ's door and was greeted by a near-bellow from her boss.

It was the full pissed off voice. Carol felt sorry for whoever was on the receiving end of it.

"NO! I am not taking that damn test!" 

Clearly, the jaw really hadn't been hurt as badly as was initially thought.

"Ms. Cregg, it's a standard test for your situation."

"Well, I don't want it. I don't need it! There is no way I could be pregnant!" CJ exploded. 

"Ms. Cregg, please..."

"No. Absolutely not. I'm _not pregnant_." CJ's tone was very icy.

Carol rounded the doorway and cleared her throat. CJ immediately blanched.

"How loud was I?"

"Pretty loud," Carol replied. "I think they only heard you on this floor, though," she said with a small smile.

CJ moaned softly and pressed herself into the pillows. "Wonderful. I wonder how long before this makes the headlines?"

"Well, you denied it pretty emphatically, and there's enough going on right now that it might not even be a thing, especially since the press knows Toby or Sam would gleefully revoke their credentials." 

"Also, I'd yell at people again." CJ resumed her glare at the woman standing by her bed. "There is no way," she repeated.

"Okay," the other woman said, noting something before fleeing the room.

Carol came and sat down, looking at her boss. "At least I can still yell at people," CJ said, sighing.

"No, you wouldn't want to lose that; it's all that's kept Josh in check," Carol replied. CJ winced and looked away. "CJ, what is it?"

"Josh hasn't been by since the first day, and I only know about that because Donna told me."

Carol didn't know what to say to that, so she changed the subject. "You look pretty good, boss. Yellow's not really your color, but green's pretty good."

CJ rolled her eyes. "Shut up." It was their obligatory opening dialogue for the last several times Carol had stopped by. They were both pretty sure it was a defense mechanism, but refused to speculate on it to each other. Some things were better left untouched. 

"Seriously, how are you?"

"I'd want to leave if I were less scared." CJ wiggled her right hand in its daily casing of ice packs. "Actually, considering what just happened, maybe I should try to check out anyway."

"I think they may want to keep you for a couple more days." Carol fidgeted with the briefing notebook. CJ immediately focused on it. 

"What came up?"

"Nothing's wrong with the briefings. I just... I was just wondering if you wanted to look at some memos."

"Several hundred?"

"Nope," Carol said proudly. "We condensed them."

"Who's we?"

"Me, Donna, Margaret, Charlie, Bonnie, and Ginger. All the stuff from the last five days from senior staff, the papers, briefings... we've been summarizing them today."

CJ smiled shyly in astonishment. "Aww, you guys didn't have to do that... I'm going to have time after I check out of here while I'm not at work..." She reached over with her left hand and curled the ends of her fingers around Carol's. "I was planning on catching up then."

"You can still do that, but this way you can relax too." Carol smiled at her.

"So how much is there for me to read now?"

"Well, there's three different versions; one got nicknamed the 'Hyper Person Summary', then there's the Cliff Notes version, and then there's a more detailed version. The first one is about five pages, the second's about twenty, and the most detailed one is 96 pages." 

"Did you spell 'Senator' correctly?"

"Yep," Carol answered cheerfully. "Margaret spell-checked all of it." 

"Oh, no," CJ answered dryly.

"I knew you'd like it."

"Thank you." She hesitated. "Could you bring them back tomorrow? I, uh..."

"Because of the thing? Sure," Carol nodded.

"Because of many things, yes." CJ's tone was deadpan.

"All right. Good night, boss."

"Good night. And thanks."

* * *

"Leo wants to see you," Donna called to Josh as he cruised through that evening.

He stopped and swiveled around, coming back. "What'd I do?" he demanded.

"I don't know." Donna tried not to avoid Josh's gaze too much; she did know why, and she wasn't happy at all.

Josh had alternately been the terror of the White House and completely zoned out for days. And he was snappish. In short, he'd taken the phrase 'being Josh' to a new level.

Donna wasn't unhappy with Leo for wanting to see Josh about this; she was unhappy with him. She wished she knew what was eating him about this.

"You always know," Josh tried to banter back.

"Well, this time I don't. So go on over. I'm finishing your notecards for tomorrow before I leave."

He paused, one hand on the door. "Hey, who said you could leave?"

"Josh, it's 9 pm. And this is the last of the stuff you need for tomorrow." 

"Okay. I'll be back." The door swung shut.

The hallways were quiet, and at his usual pace, Josh didn't take long to reach Leo's office. He bypassed Margaret and went in the other way. "Donna said you wanted to see me?" he asked.

Leo stopped reading and looked up at Josh over the rim of his glasses. "Yeah. Close the door and have a seat, will you?"

"Okay." Josh dropped onto the couch, and Leo stood up and came around his desk, rubbing one ear absentmindedly.

"I'm not quite sure how to address this, Josh," he said, taking a seat in one of the upholstered chairs. "And that's partly because I can't see any reason, good or otherwise, why it's happening."

"Why what's happening?" Josh's reflex quirky smirk was doing quite well.

"Why you're pretending CJ doesn't exist, and getting pretty pissed at anybody who reminds you that she does, and why she's not here right now."

Josh could feel himself getting red, and opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. "I don't know what you mean, Leo... I've been really busy," he managed.

"I think you do, Josh. You've been downright short and rude with Sam a number of times, not just in the Oval in the first day; you've been saying things to Donna that would make a lesser assistant cry, and if Toby didn't care about causing this administration more trouble than it's already in, he probably would have given up and killed you by now. And you haven't seen CJ since that first night, Josh." Leo shook his head. "If it's because she looked so bad you didn't want to go back, Josh, then get rid of that idea right now."

"It wasn't!" Josh squeaked. "It wasn't, it was..." he stopped, aware that his fury was rising and he could feel his heart pounding. He could only imagine what his face looked like right now.

Immediately, he did the only thing he knew how to do; what he'd done before sometimes: he backed down, at least in words. "I'm sorry, Leo. It's just... with the President's thing, we were all already stressed, and with this happening..." he rubbed his hands over his face. "It won't happen again. I don't know what was going on."

Leo met his gaze steadily, and finally nodded. "Okay. Go see CJ, go home for the night, get some sleep." 

"Thanks, Leo." Josh stood and exited, practically storming down the hallway, although somewhat subtly. His anger wasn't gone; it was just waiting for somewhere else to go.

Donna looked up as he came back. "How'd it go?" she asked, stacking notecards neatly and opening a drawer.

"What'd you tell him?" Josh came and stood right in front of her desk, staring down at her.

Donna gaped up at him, picking up the cards. "Nothing, Josh."

"You had to have said something... what, did you tell on me, that I hadn't been visiting the hospital like a good boy?"

"Josh, I really didn't, okay?" She stuffed the cards into a drawer and stood up. "Everyone's noticed, Josh; I think even the interns have noticed, all right?" Her expression was close to a glare. "I don't know what's going on with you, Josh, but stop it, please? It's scaring me." She moved toward her coat.

Josh moved abruptly. "Scaring you?" he laughed, low and dangerous. "Scaring you? Donna, this is me. I'm just... being me. And if you didn't spend so much time at the hospital, you'd see that I'm not any different than usual."

Donna grabbed her coat, shaking a little. "Can't you even say her name?" she demanded, voice quivering a little. "And is that what this is about, my time at the hospital? Is that really what-"

"You know what, Donna? Go home. Be here at 7:30 tomorrow."

"Josh, you know why I've been-" Donna was aghast.

"Go. Home."

Donna shut her mouth, realizing that her eyes were brimming wetly.

Josh watched, and tried to remember what was wrong.

* * *

CJ was watching TV when he opened the door to her room half an hour later. She did look better, he had to admit to himself as he shut the door and stood there.

Of course, it'd be hard for her to look worse.

She was alert to every sound, and especially to people nearby; CJ immediately turned her head and gave him a small smile. "Josh! It's good to see you... don't mind the TV, I was just bored. I haven't been this awake all week." She clicked it off and faced him.

If Josh had been paying attention, he would have heard gladness, but he didn't.

"Who'd you whine to about not getting enough attention?" he demanded sarcastically. "I mean, you've been practically babysat for close to a week now... people have been missing meetings and deadlines to take their turn by your bed. It wasn't okay that I was the one actually focusing?" He took a few steps towards her bed. 

CJ's eyes were huge, and she could hardly breathe one moment, then couldn't take enough breaths the next. "Josh, what's wrong with you? I didn't complain, Josh... I just... the other guys were coming, and I was surprised you weren't, that's all." She sounded a little desperate.

Again, Josh heard what he wanted. "What's wrong with me?" he demanded, coming ever closer. "With me? Look at yourself, CJ. You didn't get shot, you didn't get run over by a truck, you're awake and able to talk straight within a week. Stop stealing my staff!" He clenched his fists without thinking about it.

"Josh, please, don't," CJ said faintly. "It still hurts... I'm not trying to-" 

All he really heard were the sirens. "What're you and Donna saying about me! She's here practically all the time now... and Sam. Congratulations, CJ, you've stolen two of my best friends! What exactly are you guys doing here, anyway? I know you're not working," he laughed. "Oh, I know you're not working. Are you starting up a love triangle, trying to finish off Jed Bartlet before the MS can do it?"

CJ was deathly white, shaking her head with her eyes closed. She'd moved as far away from Josh as she could; he stood towering over her bed, fists clenched, face a mask, someone she didn't know. "Josh, please, please, stop. Please!"

Josh shuddered, hearing a pilot and a cello and a brass quintet and glass shattering and himself shattering and sirens and more shattering--

He swung his fists, trying to make it stop, and practically ran for and out the door, panting.

CJ whimpered, her head turning sharply to the right, and let loose the tears that had been building fearfully behind her eyelids.

_I never before thought I could possibly feel like this; didn't think it was possible to feel this horrid and still live. Never._


	5. You Addle Minded Machiavellian Jerk

_You Addle-Minded Machiavellian Jerk_

Charlie approached Toby. "Toby, do you have a minute?"

The older man raised his eyebrows. "Sure." He pivoted and went into his office.

Charlie closed the door behind him, and Toby, already behind his desk looking at some papers, looked up in slight surprise, but said nothing. After a minute of this, Toby looked up again, and finally said "Charlie, I'm pretty sure it's been more than a minute. What do you need?" 

"Sorry, Toby. I was-" he paused and shifted his feet a little. "You see, I went to the hospital this morning before work to visit CJ, like I've been doing, and she seemed kinda down."

Toby stood up and concentrated his gaze on the aide. "Down, or down?" he asked.

"Pretty down. She hardly said anything. I just--I don't know if you want to stop by or whatever. I just thought I'd mention it."

"Okay. Did the President need anything?"

"No. This is just me."

"Fine." Toby waited until Charlie was almost at the door. "Thank you, Charlie. I, uh, I appreciate you bringing this to my attention."

Charlie looked puzzled and surprised, but didn't look the gift thanks in the mouth, as it were. "You're welcome."

* * *

As soon as he opened the door to her room, Toby saw exactly what Charlie had meant.

'Pretty down' didn't really cover it.

It was impossible for CJ to actually curl up with her injuries, but she certainly gave that impression; her head was turned so that the left side was buried in pillow, and her left arm was lying across her torso. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was frowning a little.

Also, she looked like she'd been crying. 

Toby approached cautiously. "CJ?" he asked, when he was a few feet away. "You awake?" She didn't open her eyes, but the change in her expression and the fluctuation in her frown gave her away. "CJ, I saw that. Come on, it's okay. It's just Toby, CJ... listen, I'm just going to sit here, all right?" He put his briefcase down and sat in the chair, and just waited.

After several minutes, she carefully opened her eyes, and looked at him with an expression he couldn't describe: nervousness, hopelessness, fear, anxiety, concern... it was a myriad. The hopelessness bothered him, though; it was new, unexpected, and certainly unwelcome.

"CJ?" He couldn't decide what else to say, so he just left it at her name. She'd know what he meant, he hoped.

"Toby. Hi. You're... here kind of early."

"I decided that you were more important than the thousandth meeting with Bruno," he answered, allowing something that might have been a smile onto his face. 

"Thanks. I, uh. I just want to be by myself. Please?" 

"Okay." Toby tilted his head a bit. "CJ, are you okay? Relatively?"

"Do you know if Carol's stopping by later? I'd like to get started reading the summary of the past few days."

"CJ..." he shook his head. "Actually, I have a copy with me." He drew it out and laid it by the bed. "Anything else?" he queried, standing.

She shook her head, slowly and definitely.

Toby was already watching CJ closely; it only required a brief double take to verify that there was a patch of black and blue near her temple that hadn't been there yesterday. In a quick second, he was bending over CJ, hand gently spanning her cheek, and looking at it much more closely. "CJ, what happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine, Toby. Well, not really, but the same."

"CJ, that's a big bruise. Who did that? What bastard in here came in and punched you?" Toby was visibly stewing.

He was wholly unprepared for CJ's reaction. She immediately pulled back, going pale, and tears appeared in her eyes. "Nothing, Toby," she answered, shaking her head more. "Please... no..." Her voice was terrified, and her face was rapidly heading the exact same direction.

Toby drew back, shocked. "CJ, I'm so sorry... I would never, never-" 

"I just want to be alone," she whispered. "Please, Toby."

"CJ, I'm stepping carefully back from the bed and sitting down. I am also not looking angry. Please tell me who did that to you. I know you can't walk around, so don't tell me it was your bedside table or something."

CJ looked close to hyperventilating. She looked away for what seemed like a long time, and finally locked gazes with Toby. "I-" she swallowed, and looked even more panicked. "I don't want to think about it, Toby! I... how could he do that?"

He just waited, looking at her. "CJ," he said quietly after a bit.

"Josh came by last night," she choked out.

"It's about time."

She shook her head as vigorously as she could manage. "He was furious. Really furious."

"CJ, I'm not surprised, but Josh isn't violent, so who was it?" 

Tears streamed, indistinguishable. "He was." 

"What?"

"Josh," she whispered painfully, and turned away from Toby.

Now it was Toby who had the indescribable expression. Slowly, he got up, bent over, and kissed her gently just below the new bruise. "The memo summaries are over there, CJ. Just... forget about last night, okay? It'll be all right."

* * *

Toby stormed to Leo's office, Donna in tow. He'd pulled the young woman up from her desk without a word, ignoring her flustered questions. Margaret turned as they came in, more nervous than usual.

"Is he in?"

"He's on the phone."

"Get him off it, please."

"It's urgent?"

"Yes." Toby was eager to get out of sight before Josh started wondering where Donna was and began to wander.

Also, the level of fistfight likely to break out if Josh happened along right now would probably surpass anything for scandal material. Although it might tie with the President's MS... 

Margaret came back, looking annoyed. "He's off," she said, and sat back down at her computer.

"Thank you." Toby pulled Donna in, and shut the door, glancing around to make sure the other doors were closed as well.

"Toby, you'd better have a good explanation for this," Leo warned, standing up.

"I'd like one too," Donna added. "Josh was expecting me to finish something for him..."

Toby's teeth ground together. "As a matter of fact, Josh is the subject of my need to speak with you, Leo."

"What'd he do now? Or didn't he do something?"

"Oh, it's both." Toby rocked back and forth for a moment.

"Did he go to see CJ last night?"

"Yes. I wish he hadn't." 

"What?" Leo and Donna chorused.

"I think Josh had an episode last night." Donna swallowed nervously at those words; it was somewhat in line with the way he'd acted last night... and most of the prior week.

"Why?" Leo demanded.

"I have reason to believe there were words exchanged, or at least given on Josh's part." Toby pivoted back and forth a bit before continuing. "Also, I know this: he hit her."

Leo stumbled back, grabbing his chair for support. Donna whimpered into her hand, and sank down into the nearest chair. 

"Are you sure?" Leo ground out at last.

"There's a new bruise. Right here." Toby tapped the far left side of his forehead. "She was turned to hide it when I came in, but she shook her head later, and... I saw."

"I'm going to kill him." Leo sounded more furious than Toby could remember. He took a breath. "Donna, does that sound like an episode?" 

She nodded and sniffled a bit. "He was pretty mean when he came back from meeting with you last night, too, before he left. I didn't think he was about to have an episode, though, or I would have gone with him or something."

"Donna, this is absolutely not your fault, okay?" Leo informed her.

"What do we do?" Toby asked Leo. "If Josh had done that in front of people, he'd be in jail right now, and probably fired. So what do we do?"

"I'm gonna talk to him. Alone." Leo closed his eyes and shook his head. "How is she?" 

"Charlie was the one who tipped me off; he described her as 'pretty down'. That didn't quite cover it; she was very withdrawn, and at least as jumpy as she was four days ago." Toby was not going to tell Leo of the utterly chilling moment when CJ had looked at him with such stark fear.

"Okay. Yeah. Listen, keep this absolutely under wraps, all right? I'm going to have to tell Sam at some point, and probably the President, but nothing for now. Not a hint," Leo warned. It was unnecessary; they were both nodding vigorously. "Toby, I know you'd like to kill him with your bare hands, but if you can restrain yourself to some glares and making sure they're never alone in a room, I'd appreciate it..." 

"I'll be glad to do that." Toby smiled fiercely. 

"All right. Donna, you can go out through the Oval, in case Josh is looking for you. I'll be meeting with him sometime today. Thank you both very much, guys--I know this wasn't easy." Leo massaged his forehead with one hand, then picked up his glasses. 

"Thanks, Leo," Toby said very quietly before stepping out.

Donna waited a moment with an expression of concern and other feelings. Leo glanced at her. "I'll be careful, Donna," he said, "but I'll need you to keep even more of an eye on Josh than usual, okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Leo." She slipped out the door.

* * *

"How'd it go with CJ last night?" Leo barely glanced up from his paperwork.

"Fine."

"Really? She was glad to see you?"

"Um, yeah." After all, she had been glad when he came in.

After a minute or so, Leo finished what he was doing, took off his glasses, and stood up. "Don't pull that crap, Josh."

"What crap? Leo, I went, I saw her, I talked to her. What else did you want me to do, flowers, chocolate, a massage?"

"Yeah, you did a little more than talk to her." Leo's glare was fierce.

"What? I mean, excuse me?"

"Josh, let me put this as plainly as possible. The only reason you are not out on your ass on the sidewalk right now is that I have some hope you may be able to pull it back together. Do it now. And stay the hell away from CJ, or I will personally kick you there myself, all the way from here. Is that clear?"

Josh gawked for a second. "Um, yes," he finally managed.

"Also. There are a very limited number of people who are aware of what happened. I'm sure you'll be figuring out who they are in reasonably short order. Don't talk about this, or anything even remotely approaching this, to anyone, ever, anytime, anywhere."

"Leo, I didn't think about where I was... there were sirens..."

Leo's glare didn't soften one bit, but his voice might have been a bit gentler. "I know. That's why you weren't fired as soon as I found out; we were pretty sure you had no idea what you were doing. That's absolutely no excuse, though."

Josh dropped his eyes, and stared at the floor.

"Now that I've delivered the Chief of Staff to Deputy Chief of Staff part, Josh..." Leo stalked closer, finally stopping about a foot away. "How dare you let it get to this point again? Yes, by the time you swung your fist, you didn't know what you were doing, but you had a hundred chances before that to ask someone for help, and you didn't! How on earth could you not do that! You've been an absolute asshole, Josh, and from now on, you'd better be on your best behavior. An apology to a couple of people wouldn't be totally out of line, because you've been a complete jerk for almost a week. Whatever gets said to you about this, you'd better take it, because you quite frankly deserve a lot worse."

"Yes, sir." Josh could feel his ears burning.

"Now go away." Leo turned around and headed back to his desk.

Josh swallowed painfully, and exited. He knew Leo was right... too late.

He was a complete jerk.


	6. Victory Is Mine

_Victory Is Mine_

Two weeks later, CJ wheeled restlessly around a bedroom in the Residence. She'd been here for nine days, ever since her discharge from the hospital; she couldn't walk around yet due to her leg and wrist, she didn't want to be alone, and the Bartlets and her fellow senior staff didn't want her to be alone. Moving into one of the bedrooms in the Residence was the best solution in the short term. It meant it was easier for people to visit her, and when she wanted the room to herself, there were still people around.

Most of the time, she was able to relax and catch up on what she was missing; there were daily summaries courtesy of the assistants, and the next morning Carol always found a list on her desk of things CJ wanted to read in detail. Fortunately, the only big thing going on was the Congressional investigation gearing up... unless you counted reelection. Except for a few very satirical summaries from Sam about Bruno, Connie, and Doug, however, CJ hadn't done anything relating to that.

She'd gradually grown more comfortable being around people overall; once the President had come up from behind and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder as she was studying a memo. She'd jumped a little, and panicked for a second, but realized she was safe as soon as she turned around. The President had been apologetic, and sat down and discussed whatever subject came to mind; she'd been grateful for the distraction, which probably helped her calm down again. She had good days and bad days for being in the room with more than one or two people at a time, and for being touched, but the bad days were getting better, which was encouraging most of the time. 

Tonight, however, she was nervous again. She was going back to the West Wing for the morning tomorrow, and hopefully giving the morning briefing; in order to prepare for that, she was going down to the Press Room in a few minutes to do a mock briefing. If she couldn't do it, then she'd still go in for a couple of hours and get a little work, and they'd try again in a few days. It would be discouraging, though, to fail at it tonight.

Firmly, CJ banished the word 'fail' from her mind, just as Toby opened the door. "You ready?" he inquired.

"No," CJ answered with a groan. "Wait--how many people are going to be there?"

"For the mock briefing? About ten, I think."

"Okay, maybe. Let's get this over with." She rolled out.

Toby followed her down the hallway. "Where are you going to brief from?"

"Behind the curtain, Toby. I thought I'd give the press something else to write about." 

Toby glanced down at her; she was actually grinning a little. A funny CJ was sometimes a dangerous CJ, but he was immensely glad to see it. "Very funny. You're going to try to brief from the podium, then, not from your chair?"

CJ waited until they were out of the elevator before she answered. "Where else would I brief from, Toby? And what would it say if I briefed from here? I'm the administration when I'm in there, Toby; it's the absolute last thing we need right now."

"Okay." Toby lifted his hands a little bit in concession. "How are you getting up there?"

"Somebody's going to have to help me up. By the time anybody will care, I should be able to do it by myself. This is even assuming, by the way, that I will be able to handle the briefing tomorrow morning."

"CJ, you'll be fine." 

"You guys will be waving your hands around and shouting, Toby. There's a number of reasons for me not to be fine."

"Are you going to let me be right at all this evening?"

"Nope." 

"The President's going to be there, by the way." 

"Oh, God." She made as if to turn her wheelchair around. "I'm out of here."

Toby chuckled. "He promised not to ask you an economics question."

"Okay, then."

They continued in silence until the Press Room door was in front of them. Carol stood in front of it, waiting. "Evening, boss," she said cheerfully.

"How can you be so happy at 10:30 at night?" CJ groused at her. But she was smiling.

"I'm going to go in there." Toby chucked a finger in the direction of the other entrance.

"Toby, who's there?"

He bent down until they were at eye level. It was quite a funny sight, but both their expressions were completely serious. "You're asking if Josh is there? He's not. He's been out of the building for half an hour." He didn't miss CJ's slight flinch at the name. _I hope this can still work; I never anticipated something like this happening._ Toby kissed her forehead gently. "Good luck. See you in there."

CJ closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Okay. Let's go." Carol swung the door open and waited while CJ got as close as she could to the podium, then closed the door and took CJ's arm while she carefully stood up.

For a horrifying moment when she reached the podium and looked out onto the mock Press Corps, CJ completely blanked out on what she was supposed to be doing. Carol looked at her worriedly, but didn't do anything; everyone including CJ had agreed she had to get this.

Finally, CJ glanced down at the briefing notes. "Good morning. I have a few quick items and then I'll take some questions-"

"CJ! CJ!" they cried, some hands shooting up and waving around.

Hands. CJ swallowed and curled her fingers around the podium where nobody could see, trying to look annoyed. "Guys, it really is just a few things, so if you could hold on, I'll give you some news." Hands obligingly dropped, and their owners pouted. "Thank you. Okay, there's a vote this afternoon in the House for the most recent version of the Welfare Bill. The Senate is still holding hearings for the next technology bill. Later this morning, the President will be meeting with the leaders of the World Wildlife Fund to discuss the worldwide loss of habitat. This afternoon, he'll be spending part of his time with Democratic leadership. On Saturday, the President and most of the senior staff, including myself, will be heading to the Bartlet home in New Hampshire to work on reelection strategy. That's all for right now; any questions?"

Hands shot up and waved. "CJ!"

CJ froze, then thought about it for a minute. There were going to be a lot more hands at the press briefing tomorrow morning. She didn't call on people based on what their hands looked like; Chris' hand and Katie's hand didn't look all that different. She had the seat order mostly memorized, but also looked at each reporter's face before she called on them, assuming there wasn't such a sea of them that nobody could keep them straight, in which case she just pointed. Then the first reporter to think she was pointing at them won, so to speak.

_What if I look at their faces? If their hand's up, then their arm's going to be up too._ Relieved more than she reasonably should be by this, CJ looked down a little bit, watching their faces. "Sam."

"CJ, what do you expect will be included in the next technology bill?" 

"Well, Sam, you'd probably have to ask the Senate that, most likely after they've written the bill, but I expect, due to the expert witness list, that it'll focus on stiffer penalties for hacking and also on better user protection."

Sam looked vaguely disappointed as he pretended to write something down. More hands went up again. _Watch the faces._ "Ginger." 

"What's the status of the Congressional investigation, and who's on the witness list so far?"

"I'm afraid that the Government Oversight Committee hasn't given me that information so far, Ginger; you're going to have to check with them. I still can't comment on a nonexistent witness list, but check back with me again in a couple of weeks." Ginger actually smirked. "Donna."

"CJ, is the Welfare Bill going to pass?"

CJ snapped her fingers. "You just reminded me that I forgot to bring my crystal ball in with me." Laughter. "Seriously, Donna? We're very hopeful. This will help a lot of people if it's passed and people use it as intended."

Donna just grinned, and wrote something down. A couple of hands shot up, including the President's. "CJ!"

She pointed at him. "Sir?"

"CJ, is the President going to win reelection?"

She felt her jaw drop, and tried to get it back up. Looking like a fish never went over well at a briefing. She'd anticipated the question, sure, but from the President?

CJ had to say something. Taking a breath, she gave one of her quick answers. "Check back with me in eighteen months, sir." The President didn't move, but his expression changed, just a bit. CJ took another deep breath and pointed at the next 'reporter'. "Larry." 

"I'm Ed. Are any particular species or regions going to be discussed between President Bartlet and the World Wildlife Fund this afternoon?"

"I can ask the President that, Ed, but if he gives me a complete history of deforestation and loss of swampland, rest assured that you're going to have to listen to it at the next briefing."

Ed mock-shuddered. The President rolled his eyes self-deprecatingly, and several staffers smiled. "Let me rephrase. Does the meeting have a North American focus?" 

"I'm not sure, but I suspect it'll at least start out that way. Leo."

"What will the meeting between the President and the Democratic leadership be about?"

CJ wondered, in the brief time before she answered, whether the President and Leo had planned to ask her the hardest questions themselves. "You'd have to ask them that, Leo." 

"Seriously, you have no idea?"

"I could take a couple of guesses, but that's not news, that's the opinion page." Leo quirked a smile at her. "Margaret." 

"CJ, how does it feel to be back at work?"

"I was surprised by how much I missed you guys." Laughter broke out again.

"Seriously." Margaret looked up at CJ with the same expression she gave Leo when he wouldn't tell her something. 

"Ask me again in a day or two, when the welcome backs have worn off," CJ returned dryly. Margaret made a face, but didn't say anything more. "Toby."

"Why are you going to New Hampshire to work on reelection strategy? Isn't it easier to stay here?"

"Everyone felt that Manchester allows for a more relaxed environment, so we can focus closely on it for the time we're there. Don't worry; you'll hardly miss us." A few grins. "Anything else?" No hands went up. "Okay. That's all for right now; there'll be another briefing around 2 pm."

"Thank you, CJ. Thanks, CJ." They all stood up and went out the back as Carol came up and took her arm.

"Good job, boss," she said.

"Thanks. How bad did I do?"

"No, really, you did good." 

"What about the first couple minutes?" CJ settled into the wheelchair and turned it around.

"You were a little slow, but I think everyone expects that. It's your first briefing in almost three weeks."

"I did terrible." They came out of the press room to find the staffers who had acted as reporters standing in the hallway.

The President stepped forward first. CJ automatically stood up, resting the toes of her left foot lightly on the floor. He came up to her and stopped, looking up at her. "You know, I kind of got used to not having to look up when I was talking to you," he joked.

"Um, thank you, sir?"

He took another step forward and hugged her. CJ was astonished. "Thank you, sir."

Bartlet stepped back again a little bit and put his hands on her shoulders, very lightly. "I couldn't do this without you, CJ. I mean it. There's no way," he said very quietly. His sharp blue eyes studied her, conveying a whole paragraph of why he couldn't do it without her.

CJ didn't do anything for a moment, and then she smiled. It was slow, delighted, shy, slightly crooked: a full, genuine, classic CJ smile. "Thank you, Mr. President," she said; her eyes, too, conveyed far more than what she said.

He nodded and stepped back. As if that were a cue, Sam gave a whoop, and Donna's grin became even wider. "Congratulations, CJ!"

CJ was close to a grin. "See you tomorrow morning."

"Night!"

* * *

Toby met her again the next morning. "You sure you're ready?" he asked.

"Yep. I mean, no, but if I waited until I was ready..." she shrugged.

"You sure you can brief from the podium? That's a long time to stand up." 

She glowered at him. "We were over this last night, Toby. I have to brief from the podium. It'll be fine."

"What if-"

"Toby!"

"CJ, I'm the Communications Director. It's my job to think about this." 

"Toby, really, I've got a plan."

"What kind of plan?" He raised his eyebrows.

"The kind where I look at the reporter's faces instead of at their waving hands."

"You did that last night?"

"Yeah." 

"After the first couple of minutes?"

"Yeah." 

"Okay."

"Can I go to work now?" 

"Sure." He stepped aside. "Oh, by the way... Carol and Donna both have strict instructions to keep Josh at least 15 feet away from you at all times; we're still figuring out what to do for staff in Leo's office and the Oval, and he can pass you in the hallway as long as he doesn't stop. All right?"

"I don't want to think about it." Toby stared at her. "Thank you, Toby."

"Don't thank me; thank Leo. And you're welcome."

"Let's go."

* * *

In a repeat of last night, Carol helped her to the podium, then retreated to assistant distance. CJ looked out at the sea of faces, watching her with a variety of expressions, and took a deep breath. "Okay, everybody, I have just a few things, and then I'll take questions."

Predictably, they weren't listening. "CJ!" they chorused as one.

She sighed. May as well... they weren't going to focus on anything else, from the looks of it. "Or I'll take a couple of questions now..." 

"Welcome back, CJ!"

The entire Press Corps can be pretty loud. CJ still grinned, even though it had hurt her ears a little bit. "Thanks, guys. Can I do the briefing?" 

Hands shot up. CJ surveyed the situation quickly, hoping she wasn't too rusty to recognize the signs of a Press Corps truly interested in the human interest side of things. "Yeah. Steve?" She pointed at the reporter.

"CJ, how does it feel to be back?"

"Good, except for the part where my office is stuffed with balloons, flowers, and for reasons I don't understand, a couple of stuffed animals." Some of the reporters laughed. "Seriously, it's good to be back; I'm taking it slowly, though, so you're still stuck with Simon or Sam for a little while yet." Time to get them off this, or they'd never get any actual news. "Okay, today the President will be..." she rattled off the few items quickly. Hands promptly shot up again. "Chris." 

"CJ, what's the status of the Congressional investigation into President Bartlet concealing his multiple sclerosis from the public during the last election?"

_That was predictable. Chris is a tough reporter._ CJ paused for a second, and then, for reasons she could never name, looked over the reporters' heads and behind the glass at the back of the press room. 

The staff from last night had crammed themselves in there. Not just the staff, though; the President was there, looking right at her. Sam, Toby, Donna, Ginger, Margaret, Leo, Bonnie, Ed and Larry... they were all watching her brief. Not only were they watching, they were almost smiling. CJ knew that look; it was on the President's face too. It was the expression that said she could present anything in the best possible way.

If CJ had dared, she would have smiled. As it was, she took a breath, looked down at Chris, and went back to work.

This was her job. She wouldn't do anything else for the world.

* * *

Sam tapped lightly on her door as she was finishing up for the day a couple of hours later. She looked up, and gestured him in. "Nice job," he said, smiling warmly.

CJ sighed and smiled. "Thanks," she told him. She hadn't watched the tape of it yet, but there had been some clips on the news, and she'd snuck a couple of glances while she worked.

"You almost done? It's about noon."

"Yep. Carol!"

"Yeah?" 

"What do I need to take up to the Residence with me?" 

"A bunch of stuff. I'll give some of it to you now... okay, all of it now?" she amended as CJ raised an eyebrow. 

"Thank you." Carol vanished back around the corner, and CJ could hear her stuffing things into a large briefcase.

"Want me to walk you up?" Sam offered.

"Sure." CJ found herself grinning again.

"Wow."

"What?" 

"You, CJ." He waved an arm. "You're... wow." 

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"It is done," she said proudly of the briefing, "and I did it." 

Sam bent down and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, then kissed her. "Victory is yours," he returned.


	7. As Women Are Prone To Do

_As Women Are Prone To Do_

Two weeks passed. The senior staff went to the Manchester house with the President and came back without anyone punching Josh or making CJ too nervous. She still had days when touching her was likely to result in a black eye, and most of them were while they were up in New Hampshire, thanks to the closer general proximity to Josh. Also, the rumblings of grand jury indictments grew closer, and CJ, aware that she would be investigated very closely, was dreading her testimony even more than she had before.

Slowly, she was able to sit in the same room with Josh without panicking. Staff meetings went more smoothly after that, although she almost never addressed him directly. Josh was visibly uncomfortable, nearly as much so as CJ herself. Sometimes he missed having CJ's wit directed at him, but he was pretty sure Toby would knock his teeth out if he addressed her anywhere besides staff, and Sam would probably break his arm, then Donna would act as CJ's proxy by breaking his kneecaps. They all seemed to have magical powers that let them detect when he was around CJ; once he'd stood outside her office for a minute, debating going in, and Toby appeared out of nowhere (he was supposed to be in a meeting in the Roosevelt Room), and stared at him.

That morning, Donna caught Josh pacing inside his office. "You're supposed to be at the thing," she informed him, shoving two folders at him.

"What? Yeah." Josh shrugged on his suit jacket and looked down the hall to CJ's office. Her door was open, and he could see her bent over her desk.

Donna followed his gaze. "What's eating you?"

Josh looked down. "I wish I could apologize," he admitted. It was the first sign he'd shown of wanting to not stay this way forever, kept at a careful distance from CJ by Toby, Sam, Donna, Leo, and possibly the Secret Service and the 82nd Airborne.

She folded her arms. "Josh... you have to be at the thing."

"I want to apologize." He actually started out of his office; Donna stepped in front of him, and he backpedaled so rapidly he nearly fell over. She stared at him.

"Joshua..."

"I did this." She could barely hear him, but she heard the month of concentrated Josh guilt very well.

"Josh, you can't walk down there and apologize."

"I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "And I... I'm so scared of doing anything like that again... I don't know whether to run away or hug you right now, Donna. Did I scare you?"

"No, Josh, you didn't scare me." Donna smiled a little, and raised an eyebrow. "Hug me?" she asked.

He smiled shyly, showing a bit of dimple. "Yeah." He took a step forward. "Can I?" he asked. Donna had no way of knowing, but except for shaking someone's hand or an accidental brush as a file was passed to or from him, it would be the first time in a month he'd touched anyone. 

Donna gave him one of her mild 'are you crazy?' looks, but she stepped forward. "Yeah. That's fine, Josh." They wrapped their arms around each other, and she heard Josh sniffle a little before pulling back.

"The door's open," he said.

"So? If anybody saw, I'll just tell them my hamster died."

"You have a hamster?" The smirk was back.

"No, but they don't need to know that, do they?"

"Okay." He stood there. "I should apologize," he said again after a minute.

"Josh..." Donna took a close look at her boss. "Okay."

"What?" 

"You can't go down there. You can write it." She pulled a blank sheet off a shelf and presented it to him as formally as if it were an award. "Here. Write it. I'll take it down." 

"You said I have to be at the thing," he answered, his voice possibly shaking just a bit. "It's an important thing."

"I'll take care of it. Sit down and pick up a pen."

"Impertinent, that's what you are," he returned, sitting down nonetheless.

"I think you meant impervious, Joshua," she riposted, tossing a smirk at him and heading out the door.

"Okay."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Donna tapped on CJ's door, two sheets of paper folded in her hand. "CJ?"

"Yeah." CJ's glasses were perched on her nose as she studied the screen, carefully tapping the keyboard. "Stupid shift key... my goldfish for some voice recognition software..."

"I, uh, have something for you to read." Donna came to stand in front of CJ's desk, looking terribly nervous.

CJ looked up, took note of Donna's body language, and shut her email down. "What is it, Donna?"

The younger woman fidgeted. What Josh called her puppy dog face was making an appearance; finally she said "Um, I have something for you to read."

"What is it?" CJ stretched her hand out for it; Donna pulled it back a bit. "Donna, is it for me to read, or are you messing with me?"

"It is." Donna seemed to waffle for a moment, then sighed. "It really is. It's just... it's from Josh. I wanted you to know before you read it."

"Donna, I read memos from Josh's office every day and I don't freak out and curl into a ball." 

"No, this is from him." Donna placed extra emphasis on the last two words.

CJ's eyebrows went up, and she swallowed. "Okay. Give it here."

"You sure?" 

"Give it here before I change my mind."

"Okay." Donna held it out. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked. 

"You don't have stuff?"

"He's at a meeting."

CJ considered it. "I don't think this counts as being alone in a room with him," she said dryly, glad that she could finally say it without shaking. "Donna, I'll, um, I'll be okay." She fingered the paper. "When is he back?" 

"Depends. Could be half an hour if it goes really bad or really well."

"Okay. I'll let you know when I'm done."

"I'm down here if you need me." Donna retreated.

"Carol," CJ called. Her assistant put her head around the corner. "I'm unavailable for the next... I'll tell you when I am, okay?"

"All right. Can I interrupt you if the world's ending?"

"Just for that."

"You want the door closed?"

"Please. Thank you, Carol." The door shut, and CJ was in her office, holding two sheets of paper. She considered it, started to unfold them, and moved onto her couch instead. Only in the past week had she been able to walk at all, and the distance from her couch to her desk was all she usually tried to manage.

Finally, she unfolded the paper, unsurprised to find Josh's own writing on it. He'd done this; not Donna, not an intern, not a word processor. It was from Josh to her; between them alone, the only such thing for a month. She took several deep breaths, and started to read.

* * *

Half an hour later, the phone on Donna's desk rang. "Office of White House Deputy Chief of Staff," she said. 

"Donna?" It was CJ. She got a sudden prickle of deja vu.

"CJ, are you okay?"

"Yeah." She didn't say anything for a little bit. "Is Josh in?" 

"Yeah, he just got back."

"How'd his thing go?"

"It appears that it went well." 

"He's in his office?"

"Yeah." 

"He with anybody?"

"Nope." Josh was reading several memos.

"Okay. Don't let him go anywhere." CJ hung up. Donna blinked in surprise, then put the phone back.

Josh's office door was open, and he kept shooting nervous glances down the hallway; Donna said she'd given the thing to CJ, but her door was still closed. He rubbed his forehead, wondering what he'd done to deserve reading a report that was, quite literally, full of crap: it was on using the feces of farm animals for fuel. 

He glanced up again in frustration, and did a double take. 

Then he looked again.

No. No way. He got up and came around his desk to the door, mouth open in shock.

CJ was walking down the hallway. CJ. Was. Walking.

By White House standards, she was moving at a snail's pace, and her steps were very uneven; it was clear her leg was bothering her. There were two sheets of paper held between her fingers. She saw him looking, and returned the look, head up, determined.

Josh stepped forward. CJ shook her head at him and kept going.

He wasn't the only one looking now. Donna had spun around to get something out of a cabinet, and stood up in astonishment. Clearly, she hadn't thought CJ was ready to walk yet, either.

Josh had no idea how long it was before CJ was standing in front of him. He backed into his office, and she took two slow, careful steps forward, so she was just inside his office door.

He took a good look at her face. There were tears brimming in her eyes, but she didn't seem frightened, although her face was tense with pain. She looked directly at him, and took another slow step forward. Her left leg wobbled, and Josh stepped forward automatically to catch her, realizing in a fraction of a second what he'd just done. He started to let go, but CJ put a stop to this by wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

Slowly, Josh returned the gesture. "CJ?" he asked, concerned.

She lifted up her head a bit, weeping, and looked at him again. Carefully, she lifted her right hand and brushed it lightly through his hair. "Thank you, Josh," she whispered, her voice so choked that he wasn't sure at first he'd heard her right.

"I meant every word of it, CJ," he returned, rubbing her back very gently.

"I know," she said into his shirt. They stood like that for a few minutes. Donna came to the door upon hearing CJ crying, then retreated to ward off any visitors. Unfortunately, Toby came along shortly, and would not be redirected. He looked inside and took a step forward. Josh looked up and stiffened, looking almost guilty; CJ felt it and turned around. "Toby, it's okay."

"CJ." He looked right at Josh, who flinched from Toby's very potent gaze. "Josh."

"Toby, I am so sorry," Josh said over CJ's shoulder.

Toby narrowed his eyes, but turned to Donna. At that moment Sam, who had poked his head into CJ's office, looked down the hall and saw them. He dashed down the hall and nearly bowled over Toby in his haste and fury.

CJ turned around before Josh could say anything. "I'm okay, Sam," she said. "It's okay."

Sam looked completely taken aback, and turned to Donna and Toby. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I was about to ask the same thing."

Donna said hesitantly, "I think I know... let's move back a little, okay?" She pulled them gently over to her cubicle. They looked over their shoulders some more, but went. "It started with Josh wanting to apologize," she began.

In the office, CJ pulled away from Josh a little, wiping at her eyes a little. He smiled at her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she returned, stepping back very slightly and bringing the two sheets of paper between them.

"I, um. God, CJ, I am so sorry." 

"Shh. The best thing you did in this was not starting out by apologizing. And I will still get pissed at you, Josh, but... I've actually missed you sometimes, secret plan to fight inflation and all."

He winced. "I understand."

"I have good days and bad days, Josh, and on the bad days, I won't want you around. But..." she actually bit her lip, "I think, Josh, that this is, you know... one of those things."

He raised an eyebrow. "One of those things?" he asked. 

"Yeah." She smiled.

"CJ, you've kinda been crying and stuff, there. My shirt's all wet..." he brushed at it.

"Yes, I have... as women are prone to do?" 

"Yeah, as women are prone to do." He actually smirked.

"Josh, I hope you come up with a better explanation than that you're a woman, too," she said, brushing a finger across his cheek and holding it up for him to look at. "Because I'd really hate to have to explain that."

Josh stared for a second, thinking about arguing or making a joke. "I guess I've been crying too, huh?"

"Yes." She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for him to put his foot in his mouth. 

"Okay, perhaps men are prone to do that too?" he asked, looking a little nervous.

"Perhaps they are," she said dryly.

He leaned forward, slowly, waiting to see if CJ would stop him. She didn't, so he kissed the left side of her forehead. "You okay?" he inquired quietly.

She sniffled a little more. "Yeah," she answered, suddenly smiling. "Yes, Josh. Now go back to work."

This felt better.


	8. Josh Vignette 1

Based on reader feedback, I decided to do a little piece on where Josh was between the events of "You Addle-Minded Machiavellian Jerk" and "As Women Are Prone To Do". This is all Josh, except for a brief appearance by Sam at the end. Do not read if you don't like the dark place Josh has been in, because this takes a look, and is by no means pretty. I'm posting it after "As Women Are Prone To Do" because I'd rather have you see where I originally took Josh, and then see where he was before he did what he did in that chapter.

He wished he knew what made him do it. It wasn't as if he'd had no idea he was unspooling, but he hadn't known, or hadn't wanted to know, what was making him that way, and in all his arrogant anger, Josh had gone to the hospital room that awful evening, and worked himself into fury, betraying a friendship so completely he had no idea if he'd ever be able to retrieve it.

He'd heard it, too. That hadn't been what made him run, but somewhere in the back of his mind, a sound had registered, and that, as much as anything, had kept him as far away as possible from CJ in the ensuing weeks. That, and the way she kept flinching and moving over and further away from him, just a little, whenever he came within sight, blue eyes flicking up to his face for just a second, and then away, with a swallow as he went by in the hall.

Then there was everyone else. The psychic detection system everyone seemed to have developed recently was really annoying, or it would be if he didn't feel so guilty. Anytime he came within ten feet, there someone was, even if it was some guard whose name he didn't even know, asking, "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Lyman?" He never even bothered to tell them to call him Josh, just moved away, isolated by choice as well as edict. 

And Josh had become isolated. Some days he entirely forgot to ask Donna if she was going out with a gomer that night, or if she planned on bringing him coffee, or any of the hundred other things that had, before, been perfectly and peculiarly normal. Donna herself still strode brightly in, or not, when he called, handing him files with perfect ease and accuracy, and giving him a wondering look, as if to ask how he was doing.

He'd always thought Ron Butterfield and his Secret Service cohorts were the most intimidating people he knew, but after Toby watching his every move for weeks, he'd changed his mind. Toby Ziegler was the scariest man on the planet. The way he always put himself between Josh and CJ was utterly unmistakable, even if it was in a staff meeting in the Oval, where he'd keep one hand on CJ, as if to remind her she was protected, while she sat there, eyes wide and hurting all over, trying to go back to the business of the country. And Sam, eyes constantly moving from one fellow staffer to the next, evaluating the possibility of things coming to a head and tossing Josh himself out on the street. 

He was sure he deserved it.

Yet there were some things he still had to himself. No one seemed to be aware of the times he'd stood at the door to his office, staring down the hallway with unfocused eyes, wondering about how to make things better that didn't involve his usual political strategies. Sometimes he'd stand there a good five minutes, thinking and too scared to do or say anything, before someone would walk by and glance at him or come into his office.

And the late night he'd stood alone was his and his alone as well, forever he hoped. The dark, dark late May night when he'd stared into endless pain and isolation was something no one else deserved to have thrust on them. It was cliche, but he'd gone to a bridge over the Potomac and stood there, staring at the water, face pale and cold and quiet, wondering. Ultimately he had stepped away from the brink, but he could never tell whether it was some quick flash of Donna's reaction or Leo's guilt or the mental image of Sam and Toby struggling over his eulogy, the younger man, his best friend, trying bravely to write through dripping tears, that had let him walk slowly away. Then, too, he had been suddenly burdened with the knowledge that he would have left CJ on her own with no chance of ever righting anything again, CJ whose strong fingers had fought for him on the steps of the Newseum. The President's reaction was not even to be thought of.

He refused to call Stanley, even after that, but some feeling propelled him to stand later that week in Sam's office door, waiting until he looked up, afraid to turn back or move forward now that he had taken the irrevocable step of deciding to ask.

"Hi, Josh." Sam's voice was very quiet. 

"Hi." Josh shifted uneasily, and Sam, bless him, waited patiently. "Do you hate me?" he finally blurted out. 

Sam set his glasses on the desk with a sigh. "No, Josh, I don't hate you. It's possible Toby does, but I don't. Am I angry? You bet I am. But hate you? No. I just... wish it were different." 

"Yeah, me too," Josh responded softly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Josh..." 

"Sam, I promise. I'm just... doing penance, I guess." 

That brought a faint smile. "Okay."

"Thanks," Josh said, moving his hand away from the door frame and then clasping it again once or twice in the way he did sometimes. "Okay. Thanks."


	9. This Is Bad On So Many Levels

_This Is Bad On So Many Levels_

Ten days later, CJ limped into senior staff, clutching her briefing book to herself and looking pale. "You okay?" asked Sam worriedly.

"Um, yeah. It's just a little hot today." It was tending to the end of June, but the weather was August-like already: muggy, hot, and generally disgusting, making everyone thankful for air conditioning.

Before one of the guys could make sure it was just the weather, Leo came in, grumbling, and gestured to them to take a seat. "Okay, guys, we're getting subpoenas really soon, so keep your schedules flexible. What's going on today?"

"Subpoenas," they chorused. 

"You're kidding me." Leo looked at them. "When are you testifying?"

"Too soon. Far, far too soon," Toby said.

"I could figure that out. Who's first?" 

"I think I am," CJ answered faintly. "Tomorrow." 

"Dammit." Leo sighed. "No way you can rearrange it?"

"It's a grand jury, so not really," Sam said cynically.

CJ shrugged. "I may as well get it over with. I'm sure the press will understand when Simon does the briefings."

"What else is there?" Leo asked. They launched into a discussion of Bruno, electoral math, and campaigning.

* * *

A couple of days later, after a nearly full day of testimony, CJ sought out the First Lady in the East Wing.

"CJ! What can I do for you?" Abbey waved one of her staff out and shut the door. CJ fidgeted with her hands, then rocked from side to side a little bit. She raised an eyebrow in concern. "Is something wrong, CJ?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am... just the usual, I think, but..." CJ sighed and sat down abruptly on one of the couches.

"CJ, are you feeling all right?" It was a reasonable question; the Press Secretary didn't look good, far more than could be accounted for by two days of testimony.

"Um... no, not terribly." She rubbed at the edge of her cast, and the First Lady glanced that way.

"When do you get that off?" 

"Early next week. It's been a really long eight weeks... I'm looking forward to being able to type again." CJ rubbed her side. "Abbey... I don't want to put you under any more scrutiny than you already are. I know you're being investigated too, and your license is at risk, but... I just don't think I can ask anyone else to do this."

"What do you need, honey?"

CJ closed her eyes. "I need to know if I'm pregnant," she blurted. "I've been really queasy... and, uh, I kind of missed my last one. I didn't get tested at the hospital, because I don't think I was ready to know, so I just told them that there was no way I could be. But now-" and she might have chuckled, but the sound was bitter indeed "-it seems like I'm fulfilling a couple of the major requirements."

"Oh, CJ..." the First Lady moved to sit by CJ, putting an arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "I'll find a time to do it, all right? It may be over a lunch hour."

"That's okay," CJ said miserably. "I couldn't eat much of it yesterday or today." 

"We'll hope it's just jitters from the testimony." Abbey tilted her head. "CJ, it could only be-"

CJ was shaking her head vehemently. "I haven't done anything in a while," she said wryly. She jumped a bit at the knock on the door; Abbey hastily moved back to the other seat as her assistant came in and handed CJ a note. She read it and sighed.

"You've got to get back?" the First Lady inquired.

"Yeah. The special prosecutor isn't so special anymore; the House is taking over, so I'm sure I'll get another couple of subpoenas in a week or so. They need me back in the West Wing to talk strategy and handle the press."

"Okay. I'll be in touch. And CJ? Thank you for coming by." Her smile was warm, with just a hint of concern.

"Thank you, ma'am." CJ let herself out, and Abbey sighed, putting her head in her hands.

* * *

By the time CJ and Abbey both had relatively spare time at about the same time, CJ had gotten her cast off. Abbey had found a day where she wasn't traveling or speaking, and CJ had done about as much spin with the press as she could.

Supposedly, they were having lunch. CJ snickered a little bit at the irony as she walked slowly down the hallway. They were meeting in the outer room of an old suite-like arrangement; unfortunately, to keep up appearances, there would be food on the table. The First Lady had promised it wouldn't smell too much, but CJ still looked uncomfortable when she came in.

"Would you like to eat a bit first?" Abbey asked. The inner room was set up, although it would have taken a thorough search to turn anything up.

"Umm..." CJ picked up some crackers. "Just a little bit. Even if I am pregnant, why do I still feel so crappy in the afternoon?" she fussed.

"Every woman is different," Abbey answered. CJ rolled her eyes. "That's what I think too, CJ. Come on in." CJ sat on the bed. "Now, I can't do the full, official pregnancy test with a blood sample; I'd have to send that to the lab. But I can do a physical and some home pregnancy tests, and that will give me a large degree of certainty, okay?"

CJ nodded, her hands moving restlessly across the bed. "Is this going to hurt at all?" she asked quietly.

"I don't think so, honey. You ready?" CJ nodded, and Abbey launched into a series of questions, hands carefully probing CJ or laying out a test.

* * *

Four hours later, CJ lay on her couch, staring at the ceiling. The thing with the First Lady had taken about an hour, and then after she got back to the office, it had been one thing after another: briefings, meetings, reading to catch up on. Now she had a quiet moment, and lay down to absorb it.

_Oh, no._

This can't be happening.

She flinched, and piercing pain shuddered through her again, and she heard her clothes tear. Shivering, she grabbed the blanket off her couch and flung it over herself, covering her face with her hands.

_I don't want this. But if Abbey's right, it's a life, and life is... sacrosanct, no matter its origin._

CJ grimaced, pinched her nose between her fingers, and stood up, opening her office door. "Carol? Can you fit me in with Leo sometime, please?"

"Sure. Is it urgent?"

"Semi. Thanks." CJ closed her door and went back to her memos, hoping Carol didn't hear her groan of despair and frustration as she sat down.

* * *

Leo had some spare time the following evening, and CJ reflected as she walked to his office that the good thing about the time was that at least her stomach was behaving itself.

"Hey, Margaret."

"Hey, CJ. Go on in." Margaret tossed a look at the door. CJ knew that look; it was the 'Leo's in a mood' look, which had been making very frequent appearances of late. 

"Evening, Leo," she said, as calmly as possible, shutting the door.

Leo looked up at her through his glasses; there was paper strewn all over his desk. "Evening, CJ. Have a seat-what's up?"

"Thanks." She sat down in front of his desk and played with her hands. After a few minutes of this, Leo looked up from his work again.

"CJ, Carol said it was semi-urgent. What do you need?" he asked with exasperation. Margaret's expression had been accurate.

_This is going to be fun._ CJ knew without looking that she was practically wringing her hands together now, but she couldn't stop. "It's just a thing."

"What kind of thing?" Leo demanded.

Under Leo's stare, CJ stopped wringing her hands and rubbed them together anxiously instead. "I'm everyone's first phone call when there might be a thing," she said carefully. "Who's my first phone call, Leo?"

He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's probably me," he admitted. "Usually you don't do anything or get yourself into anything requiring you to make a first phone call to anybody. Have you?"

"I think so." CJ fidgeted, and closed her eyes for a moment. This was Leo; it was okay. It was okay. "Leo, there's, ah, I... that is. I mean..." Leo waited with an expression of forced patience. "It would appear that I'm pregnant," she finally said, going for her dry tone.

Expressions chased across Leo's face. The first few seconds, he was torn between delight and annoyance, and as he thought about it more, those changed to sympathy and understanding, and perhaps some sorrow. "Ah, CJ," he finally said. "I'm so... I don't suppose there's any chance it's not from...?" 

CJ shook her head. "That I would have remembered, Leo." 

"Yeah, I'm sure." He sighed. "Who else knows? And wait--how do you know? Because those home test things are wrong sometimes..."

She shifted uneasily. "This might cause some trouble, but it was the safest thing to do right now. I went to the First Lady; we had lunch yesterday, only it wasn't lunch." She winced in anticipation of Leo's reaction, but he just nodded.

"Okay. But if that gets out, CJ, not only am I going to be pretty pissed, but the President's going to be pretty pissed; in fact, probably more than pissed. Does anybody else know besides me and Abbey?"

"No," CJ shook her head. "She told me to go get blood work done for it when I was ready to let it get out, so I was sure before I said anything publicly."

"CJ?" Leo peered at her. "You know you don't have to--I mean, everyone would understand if you-" 

CJ made a face. "Is it okay if we talk about pros and cons later, and when the guys can weigh in, so we can all have a big argument about it?" she asked dryly.

"It's gonna be a pretty big argument, CJ." He grinned a bit, then sobered. "Hey, CJ... how are you doing?"

"I think it hasn't really sunk in yet." She looked down at her flat stomach. "Sometimes it feels like it's sunk in, but that's usually when I'm bored, which hasn't happened much."

"Yeah. Listen, CJ, I'm not good at this, but if you haven't had a chance to tell the guys yet and it's too much..."

She smiled. "Thanks, Leo."

"Yeah. When are you planning on telling them?"

"I was going to do it all at once--Sam, Toby, and Josh--and probably in the next day or two. Hopefully I'll get to it before they figure it out; the nausea has to penetrate their obsessed brains sometime." CJ shook her head at the guys. "I hadn't decided when to tell Charlie, although he's actually the first one that might guess... and the President..." 

"We'll tell the President together, okay?" 

"Okay." She sighed, relieved. After a minute, she looked at Leo again. "This is so bad."

"Yeah. On many, many levels. We'll get you through it, though, CJ." 

"Okay."

"Let me know when you've talked to the guys."

CJ stood up. "Thanks, Leo." 

"See you tomorrow. Margaret!" he bellowed as soon as CJ was out of the office.


	10. A River to Ford, A Serpent to Slay

_A River to Ford, A Serpent to Slay_

Josh tapped on CJ's door. "Hey, you called?" he asked.

"Yeah, come on in." CJ didn't look up. 

"What'd I do?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I'm just waiting for Sam and Toby."

As if called, the two writers appeared. "What's up?" Sam inquired. Toby took a seat on the end of the couch closest to CJ.

"Thanks for coming down so fast, guys." CJ took her glasses off and shut her laptop. "Could one of you close the door, please?" Sam closed it and then dropped down next to Toby, leaving one of the chairs for Josh.

"Did we do something stupid?" Sam wanted to know after a minute.

"No, no, although it's likely that will change in the next few minutes." CJ sighed and brushed her hair back. "I'm going to get this out there so you can start freaking out, all right? I'm pregnant; due in the first week of February." She waited for the explosions.

For a wonderful second, Sam had a beautiful, little-boy-idealistic expression. "CJ, that's..." he trailed off. "Oh. Oh." He leaned back on the couch, as if unable to bear the thought that he'd been happy for a second.

Josh gaped at her. "Is this from what I think it is?" he asked.

"Yeah." CJ rubbed her nose, taking a quick glance at Toby.

"Are you sure? 'Cause, I mean... you didn't, you know, with anybody right before that?" Josh then made the additional mistake of taking a quick look at Toby.

"I really didn't, Josh," CJ got in.

"Josh, are you trying to say something?" Toby asked.

"No. Well, yes... I'm... trying to make it happier, Toby."

"Stop it. It wasn't me. Face reality."

"I am! I just want..." Josh squeaked, trailing off.

"Guys, I'm over here," CJ waved her arms at them.

"Sorry." Josh dropped his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"I think it's a little too complex for 'okay', Sam, but I'm not about to do anything stupid," CJ replied.

"That's not very encouraging, CJ," Josh said. "The last time I said that, I did do something stupid. Actually, more times than that..." 

"Don't remind me, Josh." She twitched a smile at him. "Guys... I'm telling you all at once because we're going to have a strategy meeting with Leo."

"About what?" Toby asked, rubbing a bit at his beard.

"Toby, I can't hide this for long, and it doesn't matter what happens from here; this is going to be a big story. We've got to talk about it." 

"CJ, how can you just reduce it to a story-" Sam burst out. CJ smiled sadly at him.

"Sam, I'm the Press Secretary to the President of the United States of America. I work in the White House; I'm the face of this administration. I will be a story no matter what, so I may as well plan for it."

"Don't those all mean the same thing?" Sam murmured. CJ inclined her head a bit.

"Does the President know yet?" Josh asked. CJ shook her head.

"Leo and I are telling him soon. Before you ask, I haven't told Donna yet, but Carol does know. Also, I haven't seen a doctor about this formally yet, and I won't be until we work out what we're doing, so that's why we have to do it soon." CJ gestured toward her midsection. "Guys? Can I count on you to not randomly start wigging out on me?"

"This is why you've been sick?" Toby inquired.

"Yeah." CJ had suspected Toby might have observed it and not said anything, but hadn't wanted to really know.

"You want us to devise a strategy that lets us play it without looking like were playing it," Josh realized.

"Yes. We screw up this, and we screw up reelection; we can have the President's thing or my thing, but we can't have both. He won't be taken down by this." CJ looked at all of them.

"I'm there."

"We're going to nail it, CJ."

"I'm da man. Give me a river to ford."

She rolled her eyes. "A serpent to slay? Josh, I'm not sure this office can hold you and your ego."

He put his hands over his chest. "You wound me," he proclaimed, pouting. Sam smirked and Toby glowered.

CJ grinned and shook her head. Oh, how she loved her guys. "Get out and let me work," she admonished. "Somebody'll let you know when we're meeting with Leo." They stood up, but didn't take a step toward the door. She looked up. "Guys? I'm kind of trying to work here."

Toby took a step forward, and wrapped her in a hug. That seemed to galvanize Josh and Sam, and they piled into the hug too. CJ disentangled herself after a minute. "You are all freaking me out. Now go away." But she had a big grin.

* * *

"Why are we doing this at 9 pm on a Friday?" Josh griped as he wandered into Leo's office.

"Because, Josh, that's when we all had time in our schedules and when it wouldn't arouse suspicion for White House senior staffers to be here at the same time," Leo retorted. "Would 7 am on a Sunday have suited you better?"

"Um, no. But 9 pm on a Friday? This is going to take forever."

"Why, Josh, do you have a social life you haven't told us about?" Toby shot as he came in.

"No." Josh flopped down into a chair. "Does the President know yet?" he asked Leo.

Leo moved another memo between piles. "No. We want to have a plan before we tell him, in case he asks."

CJ and Sam arrived before Josh could fuss again. "Hey. Your whining is permeating the building, Josh."

"I'm not whining!" Josh protested to CJ. "I'm... making reasoned complaints about the time and length of this meeting."

CJ sat down next to Toby. "Lots of memos there, Tobus. And Josh, at least this time of night, my stomach is behaving itself. Would you really want to have this meeting in twelve hours?"

Josh blanched. "Now that you put it like that, this is a great time to have the meeting." 

"Now that we've got that taken care of, and we're all here..." Leo came and took the seat by the window and looked at all of them. "Okay. Let's get started."

"Where do we start?" Sam asked. "We're making something very personal into something political without showing it. That's pretty cold."

"That's the risk we run," Leo told him. 

"You mind taking shots at the Christian Right?" Josh smirked.

"When we may be taking them at CJ's expense, yes, I do!"

"They're not at CJ's expense," Toby advised. "They're not. You know why? Because they can only shoot themselves in the foot on this."

"I don't think that'll bother Mary Marsh!"

"Then we'll take her down, Sam! She's not going to get CJ, and neither will any of her cronies! Sam, this is the most personal political strategy we will ever work on. It is our chance to demonstrate... something. The fact that we're not just politicians. We're going to put a human face on violence in this country, and we are going to show them that it's not acceptable!"

"That's what I mean, Josh! It's cold, and I don't think we should do it!" Sam shouted.

"CJ's already out there as a political face, Sam. There's nothing we can do about that."

"This is very interesting, guys," CJ broke in. "Are you even aware I'm still in the room?" 

"I'm sorry, CJ," Sam said from the other side of Toby. "But... it just seems so cold."

"It may be that way, Sam, but if it, as Josh says, puts a human face on violence, even if it doesn't win us reelection, isn't that the sort of thing we signed up for?" CJ asked.

While Sam turned her words over, Josh inserted a quiet "Sorry," in CJ's direction. She patted his hand gently.

"Josh, this is the risk I run, being a woman and a visible face in politics." 

"Yeah."

"Now that Josh and Sam have gotten that out of their systems," Leo said pointedly, "maybe we could actually start the meeting? I'd like to get out of here before 1 am."

"We can't really decide what to do until CJ's decided what to do," Toby said quietly, rubbing his forehead.

CJ stared at her knees. "I... I've thought about it both ways, what it would look like. That's what I do. But this... my God. I never realized how much I'd absorbed the idea that life is sacred until I knew, and was thinking of killing it, because even the Church would understand--would understand if I did that." She folded her arms across her stomach, and blinked her eyes several times.

The four men stared at her for what seemed like a long time. Toby broke the silence first. "CJ, you would make a wonderful mother. I've never had any doubt of that. While we're all determined to help you ford this particular river-" he glanced at Josh, who still hadn't moved "-we can't determine what will make you happy. We don't want to make you unhappy, and I think I speak for a number of people when I tell you that they would vote for the Republicans if it meant you'd be a happier person."

CJ took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned on Toby's shoulder. "Thanks, Tobus," she told him.

"Then I think the question is how you're going to feel if you don't finish the pregnancy."

CJ turned to look at Josh, still leaning on Toby, and sighed. "Yeah. I think... I think most of the time, at least for a while, I'd feel relieved to not have a reminder. But especially if I never had kids, I'd wonder sometimes what this one would have been like, if it was a boy or a girl, if it was like me, if Toby would have been able to make the kid like baseball, if Josh would have taught them how to be stupid, if Sam would have imparted his idealism." She sniffled, and rubbed her nose. "But I don't feel ready right now," she added. "God, I sound like a soap opera character."

Leo shifted in the ensuing silence. "CJ, you don't have to do this if you don't want to." 

She smiled a little. "Well, I have to do something, Leo."

"Yeah. Why don't we take a quick look at what's likely to happen."

"Well," Sam started. "Which is which?"

"Let's make keeping option A and not option B," Josh suggested, leaning forward a little bit. Sam glowered, but focused.

"Okay. Option A, we're likely to pick up some support from the South and the Bible Belt, but there might still be some groups who are going to slam us because they believe children should only happen during wedlock."

"Some unfortunately no doubt well-funded, noisy groups, who also think that this is always the woman's fault," Josh added.

"Right. We'd be picking up support on the right, but I think we'd be losing it on the left."

"Women's groups are going to be upset," Toby said.

"Well, then, we'd just have to ask them if they mind single moms that much," Leo said. He looked at CJ. "CJ?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I don't actually think we'll pick up that much support on the right, and we'd have to be careful about any family values speeches between now and reelection. But we may be able to at least-" CJ waved her arms a bit "-make them feel lukewarm toward us."

"I think with option A we'd also have to emphasize that this is a powerful statement about women in the workplace," Josh added. 

"With supportive blah, blah, it is possible to have women who are good mothers and still are dedicated workers, blah, blah?" asked Toby.

"Exactly!" agreed Sam. 

"Is somebody writing this down?" Leo asked.

Sam held up a notepad divided into two columns. "I'm all over it," he declared. "Let's take a look at option B."

"Well," Josh started slowly, "family values groups are going to be all over it."

"Women's groups are going to applaud the application of Roe v Wade, and point out that prolife groups are trying to force women to have children, even when they most definitely did not intend to have them."

"That's a good point, Toby. Maybe we should just let the two groups fight over it?" CJ suggested. Leo smiled broadly and the other guys smirked a bit.

"That'd be good, but then the women's groups might not have any money or manpower to follow through on any endorsement of us," Sam observed.

"Yeah, I know, Sam." CJ chuckled. "It's just--it was a funny thought." 

"Yeah."

Josh fidgeted. "I think we may have to bring the churches into it."

"Josh, has it escaped your notice that President Bartlet is Catholic?" Leo demanded from opposite him.

"We're going to get slammed for bringing religion into it," Sam said.

"No, we're not, and here's why: only truly fringe-group churches are against ending a pregnancy that's the result of nonconsensual sex. They'd be arguing with each other, and ultimately the fringe groups would lose, because we'd be pulling out, or getting people to pull out for us, all the groups and studies that say that it is a reasonable course of action for a woman not to follow through on that!" Josh exclaimed.

Toby tapped his pen against his chin.

"That's a major high wire act," CJ pointed out. "It's really politically loaded, Josh, and if someone makes an issue out of it..." she shook her head.

"We'd just have to point out to the American public that CJ's happiness was more important than the Christian Right being happy," Sam said quietly.

"And if I'm not happy, Sam?" CJ peered around Toby at him.

"You said you weren't ready right now."

"I'm not."

"Then what-" 

"This is why the phrase 'the lesser of two evils' exists," Toby told Sam. The younger man sat back.

"On option A for a second," Josh said suddenly, "won't some of the groups on the right complain that this is a situation where the pregnancy shouldn't have gone to term?"

"They're going to impale themselves on several very sharp objects if they say that," Toby said.

"Because then we'd be asking them why they valued one life less than another," Josh realized. He grinned fiercely. "Now I hope they try that so I can watch them being torn apart."

"You're evil," CJ smiled at him. "Now I want to see it too... almost."

"CJ," Leo said quietly. She turned to him. "CJ, I don't know how much further we can strategize when we don't know what you're doing." Sam sighed, and Leo glared at him.

"This isn't fair," he said.

"It's not. But I brought up how we'd have to present this before the three of you picked your jaws up off the floor, Sam, so if I'm treating myself like a political object, I'm doing it on purpose."

"CJ, if you need more time, we can finish for the night and you can let us know tomorrow," Leo said gently.

CJ shook her head, and glanced at her watch. It was after 10 o'clock. Toby suddenly wrapped his hand around hers, rubbing his fingers across the back of her hand. _He'd make a good father,_ she thought suddenly. _All of them would, even Josh._ "Sam?" she asked, leaning forward and making eye contact. 

Blue eyes met blue eyes, and Sam seemed to solidify somehow. "Whatever you need, CJ," he said quietly.

"Toby?" 

He didn't say anything, just placed his other hand on top of hers and moved a little closer. She nodded.

"Josh?" 

"I've... I trust you."

CJ nodded, and slowly rotated her gaze back to Leo, smoothing down the front of her shirt. CJ felt as if she were balancing on a thin edge as she looked at Leo. This should be an ordinary decision... it should be a nonexistent decision. She didn't want to make it. She didn't want the weight of public opinion suddenly transferred to this one life. Nor did Leo want it. The man who knew what to do sat there, lined face weary, and waited. Seven little letters: 'option A' or 'option B'. Either one could destroy her, her friends, or her President. She didn't know it, but tears were making their own temporary lines in her face, invisible unless the observer was close.

"A. Let's plan."


	11. Of Course it's Not Good

_Of Course it's Not Good. There is no Good. It's What There Is._

"... and also, the President is hopeful that the agricultural package will bolster the economy."

"Even though it won't take effect soon enough to affect this growing season?"

"Yes, and if Congress had behaved reasonably, it would have been passed soon enough to do some good this year." CJ waved an arm at the other woman. "That's not a specific quote, Tabitha, but it is the reason we have to wait another year for the economic effects to show up." Leo appeared in her doorway. "Thanks, we're done."

"Morning, CJ. How you doing?"

"Morning, Leo. Don't talk about food and don't bring any food that smells near me, and I'm fine," she smiled. "Is this it?"

"Yeah. He's got a few minutes in about two minutes." CJ followed Leo through the halls; once he got ahead of her, but turned around at the next hallway junction. "Sorry. I keep forgetting..."

"I'll take that as a compliment to either the quality of my physical therapy or the quality of my calf massages from the guys." CJ smirked at the resulting expression on Leo's face. "Just there, Leo... don't look at me like that."

"Really, you're all trying to make me lose the rest of my hair." He turned around and started walking again, a little bit slower. "Is the damage permanent?"

"Some of it. It's mostly that I can't run, walk, or stay standing for long periods of time; the muscles are getting fairly strong, but they're not put together right anymore. I'll always have a limp at the end of the day." She lifted a shoulder. "It's like my right hand; I'll have nearly full functionality for a while, but start developing some form of arthritis or a lookalike in ten to fifteen years."

"Hell, CJ, how long did that take to sink in?" Leo paused in front of Charlie's desk. "Charlie?"

"He's free." 

"Oh, about a week after I started being able to use them again." CJ laced her hands together as they went in.

"Good morning, sir."

"Morning, Leo. Morning, CJ." The President stood up and walked around his desk, gesturing to them to sit. "What did the two of you need to see me about? Josh been behaving himself?"

"He's been a good version of himself, sir," CJ answered, taking a seat on the couch further away from the President.

"I guess that's good enough. If he gets too annoying, I'll just put the Secret Service on him. So what did you need to see me about, since it's not Josh?"

Leo and CJ glanced at one another. CJ bit her lip. "Mr. President, there's going to be a thing you should be aware of," Leo finally said slowly.

"What kind of a thing?" Bartlet queried.

Leo looked at CJ. She stared back for a second, eyes wide, then turned to the President. "Me, sir. I'm pregnant." 

Sometimes, the President could be even more up in the clouds than Sam. He smiled. "CJ, you'll make a wonderful mother; congratulations! Who's the lucky man?" He waved off Leo as his friend opened his mouth. "I don't care if it's a thing, Leo; this is great. Although depending on who the father is, I might punch him instead of congratulating him. When are you due?"

CJ blinked and looked away. "First week of February; thank you, sir," she whispered.

Once presented with such a contradictory reaction, the President's observational skills came into full play. Leo started again. "Mr. President-"

"Oh, CJ, I am so sorry... I really am. I take it you're sure?" 

"You're at least the fifth person who's asked me that, sir."

"Okay." He looked at her for a minute. "CJ, please look at me." She turned her face to him. "Whatever you do, I'll support it."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it." She flicked a glance at Leo.

"Have you decided, CJ?" the President asked, observing the third such look since they sat down.

"Yes, sir. We... discussed it."

"The senior staff? You, Leo, Toby, Sam, Josh?" 

"Yes, sir," Leo answered for her.

"Who else knows?"

"Donna and Carol, sir."

"Okay. What did you discuss?"

"Strategy," CJ answered uncomfortably.

The President stared at her. "CJ, you can't possibly be thinking of making political hay, or anything else political, out of what is your own personal business, your own personal trauma!"

"Sir, I don't have to think of doing it; it's going to happen. We've done some planning; we'll be doing more."

"CJ, how can you treat yourself as anything less than a human being in this?"

She swallowed. "Sir, I refuse to hurt you or your chances. We agreed on the choice that involved the least complicated political choices; as Toby said, the lesser of two evils; anything else would finish off any chance of doing what we came here to do."

"You're bringing this baby to term," he realized.

"Yes, sir."

The President stood up and paced to the windows, looking out at the White House grounds. Leo sat, nodding his head a little bit and looking at CJ. She watched the President with some nervousness. Finally, he came back, but instead of sitting down where he had been, he sat next to CJ and took her hand. "CJ, we're going to be here for whatever you need. If you change your mind, you will still have my complete support."

CJ nodded. "Thank you, Mr. President."

He stood and moved back to his original chair. "This isn't right," he said, mostly addressing Leo.

Leo looked at CJ. "No, sir. We had quite the argument about it." He rubbed one ear.

"I don't suppose the strategy will involve us trying to cram stiffer penalties for assault down the collective throat of Congress?"

"I think that might be too obviously political, sir, but we'll look into it."

The President rubbed his forehead and looked at his best friend. "Leo, this isn't good. This isn't what we should be about. This isn't what this country should be about."

"No, sir. But that's because right here, right now, for the immediate future, there is no good. This is what there is."

"All right." The President moved back to his desk. "Thank you both, and CJ, if you need anything, come and see me."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

"Sam?"

He looked up. "Hey, CJ. What's up?"

"I'm off to the doctor again for my results."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This is the official test before you make the announcement?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sam, you and Toby have a statement ready, right?"

"We finished it yesterday."

CJ raised an eyebrow. "That was fast," she congratulated.

He shrugged. "We were motivated. When are you going to be back?" 

"I might not be here in time for the afternoon briefing; we can move it back half an hour if you want to see if it's just a small delay."

"I'll check with Toby, but he'll probably sign off on it. You're not announcing this afternoon, are you?"

"Nope. Tomorrow, as planned. I'd wait until I get the question, but this way the facts get put front and center, and they also have the correct information," CJ added dryly. 

"Okay. Good luck. Hey," he said, as CJ turned to go. "You want me to come with you?"

"Sam, I think that's terribly sweet, and is the worst idea since the presentation from the Cartographers for Social Equality."

Toby appeared at the door. "Want someone with you?" he asked. 

CJ rolled her eyes. "You guys... I can only spin so much with this."

"So that's a no?"

"Yes, Toby, that's a no. I don't need to get asked if you're the dad, and I don't need to get asked if Sam's the dad, at least not based on anything resembling evidence."

"Okay. Good luck, CJ."

"Thanks, Tobus." She left before Josh could show up and ask too.

* * *

The next morning, CJ was pretty sure she looked like a complete wreck. She knew she felt like one: she had gotten the official confirmation yesterday from an obstetrician, and was shortly going into what was likely to be the worst press conference of her life. Oh, it might turn out fine, but what she was addressing made any positive association impossible.

"Ten minutes!" Carol told her.

"I know... I know." CJ pulled her jacket on.

Josh poked his head in cautiously. "They won't let me stand up front, but I'll be watching in the back, and so will Donna. Let me know if you need me to kick any ass."

She smiled; couldn't help it. "Thanks, Josh, but I don't think you kicking reporter ass will actually improve our chances."

"You never know. See you in there." He vanished.

A couple of minutes later, CJ looked up from a last-minute flip through her briefing book to find Sam and Toby in the doorway. "Hey, guys. Time to go?"

"Yeah." Toby studied her carefully. "You ready for this?"

"Yeah. No. I mean, no, of course not, but what else is there?"

"We can easily make the case that you shouldn't be delivering statements about yourself, at the very least," Sam observed.

"Thanks. No. I've got it." CJ shut the briefing book and stepped forward. "Oh, ow," she exclaimed, sitting on the couch. "Shit." 

Toby was there, gently feeling the leg. "Muscle cramp?" he asked.

"Yeah. Better here than actually at the briefing, I guess..." She closed her eyes as Toby rubbed it, and Sam sat next to her, one hand in hers. "Yeah, I think that's better," she said after a minute. "It wasn't a bad one. Thanks, Toby." She stood up again, carefully stepping forward and then back.

"No problem. Let's go." Carol hastened to get ahead of them as they exited her office and strode to the press room.

"Good luck, CJ," Leo said, passing them going the other way.

"Thanks!"

"The President says 'go get 'em', by the way!" Leo added.

"Thank you!"

At the door to the press room, CJ stopped and took several deep breaths with her eyes closed. Finally, she opened them and nodded to Carol, who immediately opened the door. 

"Butterflies?" Sam asked.

"Good thing there's nothing in my stomach," CJ answered, entering and heading for the podium. Sam, Toby, and Carol stayed by the door. As she faced the press corps, CJ could see Josh watching her, and Leo came up and stood next to him. The guys were here. It was okay. 

"All right, you guys, listen up. Also, write the date down. There is no news this morning except for one unusual item; everything will be handled at the briefing at 1:30 this afternoon." 

"CJ? What's the unusual item?" someone asked before she could continue with it.

"I was just about to get to that. I'll only be giving statements and answers once, so pay attention." CJ glanced down at her notes quickly to make sure she had everything. "I'm sure some of you have noticed that I've been passing off the morning briefings sometimes these last couple of weeks, or you've all asked me not to pass the flu on to you." There was a bit of laughter. "Yesterday I visited an obstetrician in the area, and they were able to confirm that I am, indeed, pregnant." Calls broke out, and CJ held up a hand. "I'm due in the first week of February. The father is not in the picture, and I have every confidence that I'll be able to work and be a mom." The calls grew louder, and CJ pointed to a reporter.

"CJ, who is the father?"

"I'm glad you asked me that, Tom, because it gives me a good opportunity to read the White House's official statement on the matter, prepared especially for this press conference." CJ's voice shifted a little bit, became drier and a little more impersonal. "In early May, I was attacked early one morning by multiple individuals; their motive was not clear, and they have never been caught. All of you, and indeed most of the country, are already aware of this, and that I was severely injured. What was not revealed, for the sake of privacy, was the full nature of those injuries. I am due to deliver a baby almost exactly nine months after that day. My choices in this matter are my own; having a choice means just that. Other women went through this and made changes so that I and many others would have the chance to make this as a valid choice. I chose in the hopes that this would make another change: that though I value this life no less for its violent beginning, I hope that someday there are no such beginnings to a life. I will be continuing to work here, and have the complete support of my colleagues and the President of the United States, all of whom have, in advance and without being asked, volunteered their time to make sure this baby has a diverse and stimulating childhood, and that I feel supported during a time in which so many women feel they are faced with another impossible choice." CJ fell silent, and took a quick glance at Sam and Toby, counting the seconds of blessed silence.

Well, she could hear them writing, but that didn't really count as noise. 

Fifteen... twenty...

"CJ!" She pointed again. "CJ, why didn't you reveal the full extent of your injuries?"

"In the first place, I was kind of unconscious in the hospital during most of the relevant press conferences, and in the second place, this is a very personal matter that only the police and the person involved, and close friends if she so chooses, should know about."

"So, CJ, would you say that if it hadn't resulted in pregnancy, this never would have been revealed?"

"No. Next." She caught the light in Toby's eyes as he took note of the reporter who'd asked the last question, and suspected that there might be one or two reporters getting their credentials pulled by the end of the day. 

"CJ, do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"No. I won't know for about a month." There was a small chorus of half-hearted groans. "Start a pool now and I might let you know before February. Yeah, Arthur?"

"CJ, are you prolife or prochoice?"

"Arthur, I refuse to be constrained by a narrow dichotomy that's been polarizing this country for far too long. I was raised to respect life; I believe that a woman has certain rights as regards herself."

"So... that's a yes to both?"

"That's an 'I refuse to have either label slapped on me' to both, Arthur. Katie?"

* * *

Late that evening, CJ rested her head against the wood just outside her office, sighing. The press conference had gone as well as could be hoped, but she was exhausted and her leg was cramping and the nausea had never really gone away... so all day she'd been sneaking in little snacks of two or three crackers at a time, hoping her stomach wouldn't notice and rebel while she was in the Oval Office or somewhere equally awkward. The good thing about everybody knowing now, she couldn't help but think, was that at least they had some basic idea what to do when she suddenly headed for the nearest restroom: get the hell out of her way.

She was so absorbed and so tired that she didn't hear Josh come up behind her. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, saying quietly, "Hey, CJ..."

He got no further, for CJ's nerves, frayed to tatters by the conference and everything in general, took her back two months. She pivoted on her right leg and swung her left hand out without really looking.

_Hands from behind... hands behind me. Pulling me back. Touching hurting don't want to... NO!_

She snapped out of it abruptly, and stood staring at Josh, who had one hand to his stomach and was staring at her nervously. "Um, CJ?" he asked, apparently seeing something different in her eyes or face. 

"Josh? Oh, my God." She buried her face in her hands. "Josh, I didn't... oh, no. I'm so sorry... are you all right?"

"You pack a mean punch. I'll be okay, CJ... just glad I didn't have anything to eat recently."

She allowed herself a very slight smile. "Yeah, me too. Seriously, Josh, how hard did I hit you?"

"There'll be a little bruise. Seriously, CJ... you don't think I maybe had it coming?"

"Well, if I went by that, Josh, you would have spent a couple of weeks looking pretty bad." He smirked. "At least I'm out of my funk now."

"Glad I could help. Try to make it a little less painful next time, will you?"

"Yeah." She took a look around. "Josh, what are the chances that somebody saw that?"

"Very little. It's, like, 11 pm or something..." Josh took a look around, and then shrugged.

"Okay. Night, Josh." 

"Night, CJ." He headed back to his own office.

* * *

Sam shut his laptop with a brisk click, and stood, stretching. He'd spent the last four hours writing, and before that... well, it had been a long day. He blinked at a sudden shadow in his doorway. "CJ?"

"Hey, Sam." Was her voice just a little too light, a little too controlled just now? 

"Come on in, CJ. What's up?" He waved her in, and saw that she was very pale. More than that, she just... didn't look good. Sam couldn't put a name to it, but he felt something in him twist nervously, more so when she didn't say anything. "CJ? Is something wrong?"

"I hit Josh," she told him. 

"Some people would say that's a good thing, not a bad thing."

"He put his hand on my shoulder. I thought-I thought he was..." she fell silent.

"Aw, CJ... C'mere." He wrapped her in a gentle hug, feeling her tremble just a little bit. Slowly, she seemed to relax, and he finally asked, "How hard did you hit him?"

"I'm not sure. He said it'd be 'a little bruise.'"

"Some people would say that's poetic justice."

"That's what Josh said." Sam leaned back and made eye contact. "I was going to ask if you're okay, but you don't look good. Want a ride home?" This had happened in varying combinations and with various destinations several times, and wouldn't arouse the least suspicion.

CJ hesitated, but finally nodded. "Reliving, not remembering," she said in a small voice, quoting what Josh had told her.

"Oh, CJ, I wish you didn't have to deal with this," he told her.

She shook her head slowly. "It's what there is," she answered.

"I know. That doesn't mean I have to like it. Come on."

* * *

"Sam, I'll be fine. You don't have to stay." 

"CJ, we've done this before. Nobody's gonna care, and if they do, Toby will mop the floor with them."

"What if you were Toby?"

They both started laughing. "Then I'd mop the floor with them," he answered.

"As yourself, or as Toby?"

"I honestly don't know." 

"Seriously, Sam..."

"CJ, you have a couch. I'll be fine. You look like you're going to have a bad night." 

"Way to buck a girl up, Sam," she said, smiling. Then she sobered abruptly. "Yeah, you're right. I just want to show I can handle it, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." 

"No sitting up the whole night, understand? I don't want to have to explain you looking awful, as if it's contagious or something..."

"I'll be sleeping right here," he said, pointing to the couch.

"Good night, Spanky. And thanks."

"Night, CJ."

Some hours later, in whatever still hour of the night, Sam woke up. He frowned, looking around a bit. The fact that his outstretched hand met air where it ordinarily would have run into more bed clued him in to where he was.

There was a sharp, desperate cry from the bedroom, and he remembered.

CJ. Flashback.

Sam got up hastily, tripping himself in the sheets, and ran into the bedroom. There, he paused briefly at the sight of CJ. He couldn't tell whether she was conscious or not, and if she was, if she was so strongly in the grip of a flashback that she had no idea where she was.

There was only one way to find out, so Sam carefully approached the bed and leaned over it, reaching down to touch CJ lightly. "CJ, it's Sam-"

His questions were rapidly answered when CJ took a swing at him, hand bared. He stumbled back hastily, wincing as her nails hit his lower cheek and jaw. She screamed, a sound Leo would have recognized had he been there.

_Oh, God._ This was by far the worst flashback CJ had experienced to date. He carefully approached again. "CJ, it's okay, it's Sam..." he said, repeating several times with variations on the theme that she was safe. Sam massaged his forehead, considering his options, and finally headed for the phone, taking a quick glance at his watch along the way. It was a little before 2 am. This was going to be fun... 

"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered.

"Donna?" 

"Sam? What's wrong? Where are you?"

"I'm at CJ's. She's... I can't..." Sam knew Donna couldn't see him waving his arms around helplessly, but she seemed to understand. 

"Give me a few minutes. I'll be right there." 

"Thanks, Donna."

He wandered in a restless circuit while he was waiting, centered around CJ's room. It'd be really fun if she snapped out of it just before Donna got here... but no. There was a tap on the door, and Sam hastened to it.

"Donna. Thank you so much."

"No problem. Big nightmare?" 

"Flashback, I think." Sam stepped back, falling into a bit more light as he did so, and Donna did a double take. 

"Sam, what are those?"

He pointed at his jaw. "These? My first try with CJ."

"Ouch. So we're going to have a matching set, or what?"

"Well, you're not a man, so I hope not."

Donna rolled her eyes a bit and stepped into the bedroom. "CJ," she said, coming up to the bed. "It's Donna. You're just having a flashback... it's okay, CJ." She sat down and started running a hand over CJ's hair, being careful not to get her fingers caught and tangled in it. "CJ, come on..."

Finally, CJ blinked, then curled up on one side. "Donna?"

"Welcome back." Donna smiled down at her.

"Thanks. What are you doing here?"

"Sam called me. You remember anything?"

"Isn't it 2 am or something?" 

"Basically, yeah. You remember anything?"

"Just it happening again," CJ shook her head.

"Okay. CJ, are you going to be okay with Sam, or do you want me to stay?" 

CJ squinted up at Sam. "You got some sleep, right?" she half-asked, half-admonished.

"A couple of hours, yeah."

"Okay." CJ seemed to tuck herself into the covers even more. "I think we'll be okay. Thank you, Donna." 

"You're welcome. Good night, CJ." Donna bent down and gave her a swift hug.

"Thanks, Donna," Sam added.

"See you guys in a few hours," she shot cheerfully.

Sam sat down by her door. CJ watched him for a few minutes, then closed her eyes. When she opened them, he was still there. "Um, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"The couch is in the other room."

"Yeah, I know." 

"Sam, are you going to sit there all night?" 

"Probably. I don't want to leave you alone."

He had a good point; that was when flashbacks usually started. "Okay, you're not going to get any sleep like that, and I'm not sure I will, either." She flipped the covers back. "Get in. Don't touch me from behind."

Sam stared for a second. "CJ, are you serious?"

"Very. Get in before I take all the covers." Slowly, Sam stood up and came around, carefully climbing in as though she might hit him at any moment.

"CJ, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's better than yours." CJ looked at his face. "Sam? Where are those from?"

He rubbed the scratches. "Um, they're kinda from you. And I was in front of you, so I wouldn't want to imagine what would happen if I touched you from behind..."

She could feel herself turning scarlet. "Sam, I'm so sorry..." 

"CJ, it's okay. You had no idea where you were." 

"Thanks," she murmured, drifting off again.

Half an hour later, she woke up gasping from another nightmare, staring at Sam. He was staring right back, blue eyes reflected in the dim light. 

"I'm okay," she managed.

"CJ..." 

"Shut up," she said softly. She bit her lip for a moment, then rolled over and pillowed her head on his chest. He jumped.

"CJ, I don't know if-"

"Go to sleep, Samuel." His heartbeat, his warmth and presence, were incredibly calming, and CJ had to wonder why she had never tried this before. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder, and felt Sam slowly relax and put an arm across her back.

Soon they were both asleep.


	12. What Is It You Do Here, Exactly?

A/N: John Spencer, and Leo McGarry. For letting Bartlet be Bartlet, and sticking that napkin on the stand.

_What Is It You Do Here, Exactly?_

"But the thing in Panama-" Sam protested. 

"There's a whole big thing in Azerbaijan, so-" Leo started.

"We've got to work this defense bill," Josh interjected.

"I'm just writing a policy initiative-"

"-which is related to Panama-" 

"-and if we don't get the bill-"

"-it won't matter because of Azerbaijan-"

"-Where is Azerbaijan, anyway?"

"Somewhere over there. What'd they do?"

"Pissed off Iran."

"Oops. Anyway, the whole isthmus is in an uproar, so-"

"-None of it matters unless we've got the framework, and we need the-" 

"-Policy initiative for that. Thank you, Josh." 

"If you don't shut up," CJ abruptly shouted, "I'm going to be sick. On all of you."

Four mouths clammed shut at once.

"Thank you. Can we get something done before the morning briefing, please? I don't think 'Senior Staff Plays Preschool' will go over very well."

"Actually," Josh started, "it'd be more like 'Senior Staff Has Playground Argument-'" CJ stood up. "Okay, okay."

"Thank you." CJ sat down.

"Can we talk now?" Toby asked after five minutes.

"If you can play nice, then, why, yes you can, Toby." CJ directed her gaze onto him. "What do all of you do here, again?"

Leo might have actually blushed a little bit, but he said, "Okay, Sam and Toby, you figure out that thing. Josh, keep taking meetings for the bill. And try not to argue too much in the halls, all right? CJ, do you have a thing today?"

"Nope. That's next week." CJ stood up, revealing a very slightly rounded stomach. "I'm kind of hoping to get some shopping done after work, though, assuming we can all avoid causing large explosions."

"What kind of shopping?" Josh inquired with a smirk.

"The maternity kind, Joshua. Clothes. Would you like to help?" 

"No." He fell silent, but bounced on the balls of his feet a little bit.

"CJ, I think you're getting more sarcastic, and I didn't think that was possible," Sam observed. 

"Maybe I am," CJ answered dryly.

"All of you go to work," Leo directed them. They filed out and went down the hallway, talking about the location of Azerbaijan. Sam and Toby split off from CJ and Josh, who stuck together until they reached her office.

Carol looked up, and glanced at the closed door as CJ stopped in front of her desk. "Who-?" 

"It's your brother," Carol advised her.

CJ lifted her eyebrows. "When did he get here?"

"About fifteen minutes ago."

"Okay. Which brother?" 

"Um, Albert."

"Thanks, Carol. See you later, Josh." CJ opened the door.

Albert Cregg unfolded himself from the couch with a rueful grin as she opened the door. "Hey. I hope you don't mind me seeing you now..."

"No, I'm just, um, going to be really busy today... Al, I really didn't want that stuck in your head, all right?"

"Claudia, it's okay." He smiled broadly. "It's just that Jeffrey and I haven't seen you in forever, and we wanted to make sure you were doing all right... what with you being pregnant and all." He sobered. "You're sure?" he asked again. He'd asked three or four times on the phone, as had Jeff, and neither of them seemed to want to believe it. CJ didn't usually want to believe it, either, but their denial mechanism seemed fairly steadfast. They were, after all, her brothers.

"Albert, I'm surer than I could possibly want to be, and I'll be all right when you stop asking me." 

"Okay." He studied her face, and then stepped forward, arms outstretched.

CJ surprised both of them by jumping backwards hastily. She clutched her briefing book to her chest and took several deep breaths. Al, for his part, nearly stumbled backward onto the couch again.

"Claudia Jean Cregg, what on earth happened to you?" he finally whispered. His sister's face was filled with emotions he'd never seen on her before, and she was trying very hard not to cry. She lifted her face painfully, and looked at him.

"Albert, do you know what happened? I was grabbed... they were everywhere, hurting me... so much..." she shuddered through a breath. "It's-it's people's hands, Al, I-I can't..." she trailed off, shaking uncontrollably.

"CJ, oh... CJ," he could only say. "How can you work like this?"

"This-this is a good day for me. I'm around a lot of-of these people each day, and I don't look at people's hands during briefings. On a good day, I'm okay, except when-when it's somebody I don't-"

"Don't know as well?" he finished, eyes softening and filling with regret. This was the work CJ loved, and he knew she knew the price she was paying for it.

She nodded miserably. "Or that-that I haven't been around as much," she said, trying to control her crying. "It's not that I don't know you, it's that I haven't seen you... and I don't... the memory doesn't... it doesn't know you're my brother." She brushed a cheek, and looked out the window. "Part of this is hormones," she added wryly. 

"Yeah." He smiled a little bit, and nearly stepped forward again. He wanted so badly to comfort his sister, but CJ's traumatized reflexes made him powerless. "What's a bad day like?" he asked.

She actually smiled a little bit. "On a bad day, someone who touches me without saying something first gets kinda black and blue. Or maybe just brown and green, if I'm too tired to swing hard. They're usually pretty careful."

"I should think. I know what your strong arm is like." He hesitated. "CJ, what do you want me to do?"

CJ drew a deep breath and glanced at her watch. "Get Donna." 

"Okay..." he opened the door, noticing that CJ immediately seemed to relax a little bit. He bit his lip, and looked at CJ's assistant. "Do you know who Donna is?" he asked. 

Carol nodded immediately. "Yep. CJ wants her in there?" 

"Um, yeah... wait, how often does this happen?" 

"Not much," Carol answered, shifting some piles around on her crowded desk. "But Donna's really the only woman here that CJ knows that well and is comfortable with. She's the one CJ called. Hey, Donna, could you come down to CJ's office, please? I'm sure Josh will understand... we can trade for a few minutes if you want... thanks."

"So you don't know her that well?"

"I wouldn't say that. It's just that because I handle her office, I can't go to her as much when something's wrong. One of us has to be here."

A young woman with blonde hair came up. "I'm Donna Moss," she greeted. 

"Albert Cregg."

"Pleased to meet you. CJ inside?"

"Erm, yes." She ducked in, gesturing to him to follow.

"CJ? Is it okay if I close the door?" Donna studied CJ carefully. She had been crying, but at least seemed to know where she was.

"Yeah, that's okay." CJ wiped her face with her hands again. "I'm a mess..."

"It's okay. Let's get you calmer, all right?" Donna took slow steps forward, then carefully reached out an arm and put it on CJ's shoulder. She didn't react except to take a deep breath and let it out again. "Do you want to sit down?" CJ shook her head vigorously. "Okay, but you've got to relax a little, CJ; your leg's going to start cramping up. Shh, that's it..." Slowly, CJ became less stiff, while her brother watched in fascinated concern.

Finally, CJ blew her nose several times, then took some more deep breaths, and took a step toward Al, who had been standing in front of the couch. "Stay still," she told him. It was unnecessary; he saw the fragile look in her eyes, and wouldn't have moved even if someone had told him a meteorite was about to come crashing through this spot. Step by slow step, CJ advanced, until she was standing about arm's length away from him, and then carefully stretched out a hand.

"CJ-" 

"Shh. I know what I'm doing." She moved her hand carefully, finally taking hold of his arm at the elbow, and lifted his lower arm up. Now he understood what she was doing, and watched, intrigued. CJ held his left arm a couple of inches above the wrist now, and slowly brought her own left hand up and delicately felt his hand with it, moving closer all the while. Finally, her head bent over his left hand and her questing left hand, and he felt a tear drip onto it. "I never thought I'd have that reaction, you know."

"It's okay, CJ." He watched as she finished her study and finally took his hand in hers. "It makes the reason I came a lot easier, though."

"You didn't come to ask me to quit, did you?" she responded, her eyes narrowing.

"No. Never. I... it's rough, never seeing you, but you're happy working for this President."

"Okay, what did you come here for, besides my company?" she asked, a shy smile finally gracing her features. With that, she looked like the sister he remembered again.

"I... well, this is Jeff and I, actually, but I'm, you know, speaking for both of us... we were going to ask how you were going to raise the baby." He sighed, and carefully moved his fingers across CJ's. "But I can tell now. You've got the people you work with, and the President." 

"I hadn't thought it all the way through, but... they're here. And I-I feel comfortable around them, Al... I don't know if Jeff will understand that, though..." she bit her lip uncomfortably.

"They're your brothers and sisters now," he said, smiling at Donna, standing on the other side of the office. It was worth everything to be rewarded with a brilliant, relieved smile from his sister. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" 

"Not yet. I think they can do the test in a few weeks, or maybe next week at the ultrasound." She squeezed his hand. "Al..."

He shook his head. "I'll take care of Jeff. Keep in touch."

"Thank you. And I'm so sorry..." she leaned forward and kissed him. He smiled gently in return.

"Don't be sorry. I love you, CJ." He kissed her in return. She let go of his hand, and he nodded at Donna before moving to the door.

CJ waited until the door was closed before folding herself onto the couch. "I have a briefing in 35 minutes," she finally said.

"I'll help you get cleaned up," Donna said. "Josh will leave me alone long enough for that," she added impishly.

"I already offered to let him come maternity-clothes shopping with me, so I think he'll be nice," CJ grinned. Then she punched a cushion. "I hate hormones..." she glanced up. "You know, he never asked you what you did. I wonder if he realizes that calming me down may be the easiest thing you have to do today?"

Donna chuckled. "Come on. Let's get you ready to brief."

* * *

A week later, CJ looked up from her work to find Sam leaning against her doorway.

Again.

It was the fifth time this morning, and she hadn't even done a press briefing yet. 

"Sam, did you forget where your office is?"

"No. I was just-" he waved an arm.

CJ massaged her forehead. "Sam. Go back to your office and work."

"CJ, are you okay?"

"Samuel... Spanky... I am fine. I don't need to leave for the doctor's office for something like another four hours, and I promise to not start wigging out and ripping walls down until the last hour, all right?" Sam started laughing, but he also stayed put. "Seriously, Sam, what is it, exactly, that you do here? I think Toby wants you to write something at, you know, some point this month..."

"It's early August. I have plenty of time." He folded his arms. "And I can write and make sure you're fine. I'll just be cramming this afternoon while you're there."

"That will be a relief, but for all you know, something will have come up by this afternoon involving the end of the world, and you'll have to write about something else entirely, and then Toby will be cranky." 

He shuddered. "CJ..."

She had gone back to looking at her work; now she looked up again, her annoyed gaze magnified by the glasses perched on her nose. "Yes, Samuel?" 

Sam took a quick look around; nobody was nearby except Carol. "Do you want me to come with you?"

CJ was moved, but what she said instead of 'aww' was "Sam, haven't we been down this particular road before about sweet, very stupid offers?" 

He just shrugged. "Yeah, but... I thought you could use some company, and I could probably use some time away from Toby by then, and I might even write while we're waiting."

She groaned, flung her glasses on her desk, and massaged her nose. "Sam... people are going to ask if you're the father." 

"Then they can bite me, and then Toby will take great pleasure in ripping them to shreds, and Josh will stomp on the shreds, and when they're done, I'm sure the assistants will run them through their own paper shredders. Or something. CJ, it's been three weeks since you announced; it's out there and clear that nobody we know is the father. I'm a supportive colleague."

"That you are," she smirked. "Okay, fine, but, Sam... in the meantime, go back to your office and do some writing. I don't want to see you again unless it's a staff meeting until after lunch, all right?"

He practically bounced with delight, a trait she ordinarily associated with Josh. "Deal," he said, and vanished. CJ shook her head at the delightfully stupid men she worked with, and went back to her memos.

* * *

"Hi, CJ." Doctor Llanewyn came in and shook CJ's hand. "How are you feeling?"

"My bladder hurts," CJ griped, as she already had to Sam twice in the waiting room.

The doctor shook her head and grinned. "Let's do your ultrasound then, by all means. Although if you think this is bad now, wait until you're in your eighth month... You're familiar with the technology, what we can see, what we can't see?" 

"Yes." CJ fidgeted a little and gripped Sam's hand a little more.

"Um, CJ?" he asked.

"Yeah?" CJ was alternating between staring wide-eyed at her gelled-up stomach and staring wide-eyed at the ultrasound monitor.

"I think I want to be able to use these fingers sometime later today." 

"Sorry." CJ loosened her grip and rubbed her fingers across Sam's. "Sorry."

"It's okay." He rubbed her shoulder with the other hand, and then joined her in watching the monitor.

"Well," Doctor Llanewyn put in, "I can't tell you a great deal at this stage, although I'll never be able to tell you the color of the eyes or whether they'll be good at piano... but I do see a head, and I can definitely see two legs and an arm. It's not as clear as I'd like... but it may be a girl."

"What if I didn't want to know?" CJ asked dryly from the bed.

The doctor glanced up, and replied just as dryly, "In that case, I could just say I was playing with you. I really can't tell from this, and even doctors like to hedge their bets."

CJ grinned.

"When can you come back in?"

"Will I have to have a full bladder again?"

"Yes."

"In that case, about ten years from now..." The two women laughed a little. "I can probably make time again in a week or two, assuming the end of the world doesn't occur between now and then." 

"Good. I'll see you back in two weeks then, all right? And what do the two of you do at the White House?"

"Sam's the Deputy Communications Director, and I'm the Press Secretary. In different ways, we craft a lot of the President's message and public image. Sam does a lot of writing and policy meetings; I... um, mostly brief the press."

"Okay. I know you already can't stand for too long, but be extra careful these next few weeks, all right?"

CJ nodded. "Is there anything else I should be doing?"

"Make sure you get enough calcium and iron, general vitamin supplements, things like that... sleeping on time wouldn't go amiss..."

"Thank you, Doctor Llanewyn." They shook hands again, and the doctor left.

CJ leaned all the way back onto the headrest. "Ow. That was fun." 

"It looked okay from here..." Sam smiled a little. 

"Shut up."

"Okay."


	13. A Proportional Response

_A Proportional Response_

As it happened, the world didn't quite end in the two weeks between CJ's first ultrasound and when her second one was scheduled, but it was utterly chaotic. The first one only got canceled because Carol had it on the calender, and it was the last day of August before CJ had a chance to think about possibly having enough time to go get an ultrasound, at least when other people on the Eastern Seaboard were awake for things besides the night shift and saving the world.

CJ emerged from a briefing, grimacing and looking as if she'd like to lock everyone out of the building. The Congressional investigation hadn't gone anywhere, and then there had been more Democratic candidates holding press conferences about running, and India and Pakistan tried to blow each other up again... more terrorism in the Middle East, some of it targeted... more slams about the President's honesty... it went on and on and on... and the jokes about cots for the senior staffers in some basement rooms were no longer jokes.

"The President wants to see you," Carol advised her.

"When?"

"Now." 

CJ considered this, then handed her briefing book over and answered "Okay, then," taking the next cross-corridor to the Oval. Charlie looked up as soon as she came into the outer office area. "How do you do that?" she asked.

"Well, I'm probably about to get in a lot of trouble here, but now I can tell when you've come in because you're a little larger than you used to be."

"Trouble isn't quite the word for it, but yeah, you just got in it."

"It's a graceful larger, CJ."

"Be quiet now."

"Okay. The President will be ready in a minute--something came up."

"All right..." CJ took a seat and crossed her legs. "Were you trying to say I'm fat?" she inquired after a couple of minutes. Charlie looked up with the expression of a trapped man.

"No..." he said slowly. "CJ, you're pregnant. And you look good, not that I've seen that many pregnant women, but you look good. It's not that different from how I tell that Josh has entered the room because someone with a swagger just came in, you know?"

"Keep digging there, Charlie."

Charlie was saved from further CJ wrath by the door to the Oval opening. He got up and returned a moment later. "Go ahead in," he instructed.

"Thank you," CJ said dryly, unfolding her legs and standing. "Good morning, Mr. President."

"Morning, CJ. How was the briefing?"

"About as fun as the last ten or twenty, sir."

"Good. I wouldn't want some of us to be having more fun than others. Have a seat."

"Yes, sir." CJ took a seat on one of the couches and rubbed at her lower back absentmindedly, while the President sat down in an armchair and regarded her.

"CJ, next Tuesday you're taking the morning off, and Charlie is taking you to your ultrasound."

Several things came to mind, but CJ finally settled on a "Sir, I don't have an ultrasound scheduled next Tuesday."

"You do now. I didn't realize you'd missed your last one, but my spy network advised me that it's been about four weeks since the last one you actually got to, and that you were supposed to have one two weeks ago and missed it because all this crap came up. So, CJ, you're going in next Tuesday morning, 9 am, with Charlie, unless the world actually ends."

"Sir, I appreciate it, but I can probably go by myself..." 

"Charlie's my proof that you actually went, and besides, he could use a little change of pace too." The President was insistent, and CJ accepted the inevitable.

"Sir, can I at least come in for senior staff?"

"Yeah, but then you're going, and I don't want to see you in the building until after you've had enough time for the ultrasound, a real breakfast, and whatever they want you to add to your diet."

"Sir, you sounded very much like the First Lady just now," CJ observed dryly.

"Well, that's probably because I was just quoting what she told me the other day."

CJ hid her face in her hands. "She noticed I hadn't had an ultrasound?"

"Yeah. For one thing, you haven't been gone from the building long enough for one in about three weeks."

"Sir, does the whole free world know this, or...?"

"I don't think you need to worry about it making front page news, unless you don't go," the President replied, putting his hands on the arms of the chair and aiming one of his determined expressions at her.

"Yes, sir. Was there anything else?"

"No, just the small matter of your health. Thank you, CJ."

"Thank you, Mr. President." CJ exited the Oval and stopped at Charlie's desk; he looked up with a truly desperate expression. "Did you know about this?"

"Next Tuesday? Yeah. Am I going to be coming back alive from that?"

"We'll see how you are between now and then," CJ smirked at him.

* * *

Next Tuesday evening, CJ leaned back in her office chair and stared out the window.

_'This is why it wasn't clear last time.'_

'You have twins.'

'Congratulations, though; they're both girls. I can't tell you whether they're fraternal or identical, however.'

'There's also, uh, something else...'

There's something else.

CJ closed her eyes painfully.

Someone knocked on her door, although she couldn't have said whether it was a minute later or five thousand years later, and she turned around. "Hey, Leo," she greeted.

"Hey. It's been a fairly calm day--a lot of people have left. You heading out soon?"

"Yeah, pretty soon."

"How'd the ultrasound go?" 

"All right, thanks."

"I'm the tenth person to ask you that, aren't I?"

"More like thirtieth, especially if you count all the times the guys have asked."

Leo chuckled, a wonderful, gravelly sound. "It's because they love you, you know."

CJ felt as though she'd been hit by a truck. "I know," she said anyway. 

"Night, CJ."

"Night, Leo."

"And go home soon!"

"I will."

CJ swung around and stared out the window for a few more minutes, and then turned back to her desk, bringing up a blank document. There was, after all, only one possible response: for she was the White House Press Secretary, and she would protect the President at whose pleasure she served. And she would protect everyone else, too.

The only question was where to start, and how much she could write up tonight and still give the illusion tomorrow morning that she'd gone home and slept for something resembling an appropriate amount of time for a pregnant woman. There was so much strategizing to do, and as much as CJ sometimes got fed up with having to spin things, she was good at it, and she was good at predicting it and providing alternatives. And this had to be good.

After long consideration, she smiled faintly, and typed her biggest headache: "Josh and Donna". Below it, she put "The Two Craziest People In the World," which was really the only possible, proportional response from CJ upon seeing the combination "Josh and Donna" anywhere, even if she had written it. Actually, there were other responses, but most of them weren't fit for public consumption; the two were cute when they were arguing, but they were a huge, huge headache waiting to happen.

Gail swam placidly in rhythm to the sounds of the keys far into the night.

* * *

"... and tell them they can go put it up their ass," the President finished.

"I don't think I'll put it quite that way, sir, but I'll be sure to pass along your wishes," Josh said, possibly with the hint of a smirk: the smirk that declared war on Congress very frequently.

Leo rotated to each staffer. "CJ, you said you had something non-press related?"

"Um, yes." CJ suddenly felt uncomfortable. "It's about the ultrasound I had yesterday."

"Oh, how'd it go?" the President inquired.

"That's what I wanted to bring up, sir, and with all of you at once rather than telling you piecemeal." Josh's bad poker face immediately made an appearance, and Sam's lips made a downward curve. "It's nothing that horrible, guys. It's girls."

"Congratu--wait!" 

"Girls?"

"Plural?"

"Yep." CJ held up two fingers.

"Whoa," was Josh's first comment.

"Very articulate, Josh, but at least you beat Toby and Sam for time," CJ returned.

"Now, CJ, aren't you glad I made you go in yesterday? If you'd kept going like you were, then you would have found out the day you went into labor, and also discovered you didn't have enough baby supplies," the President remarked.

"Yes, sir."

"Thanks for letting us know, CJ. Was there anything else?"

"Thank you, Mr. President," came the responses.

"Twins?" Sam repeated once they were outside the Oval.

"Yes." 

"Twins?" Charlie asked.

"You shut up now."

"Twins?" from Toby.

"All of you can shut up now. See you later. Try to stop wigging out by then... and Samuel, can I see you for a minute later? It's about the thing tomorrow."

"See you later, CJ."

* * *

"CJ? You wanted to see me?" Sam tapped lightly on her door.

"Yeah. Close the door, please." CJ turned away from her computer and waved at the couch. "Listen..." 

"Is this really about the thing tomorrow?"

"No. That was a cover."

"Okay... what is it about?" 

"I need you to put me in touch with some lawyers you trust to be good and discreet at the same time."

"Any particular specialty?"

"Custody, wills... I haven't updated it in forever."

"CJ?"

"Sam, I want to cover all my bases." She looked at him.

The direct eye contact was a mistake. Sam, out of all the senior staffers, was presently best acquainted with CJ and her moods and feelings. There was a sudden disquiet in her eyes that hadn't been there before, and something... he hadn't seen it before, except in the President's eyes, when he sat down with him and told Sam he had multiple sclerosis.

"CJ, what happened at the ultrasound?"

"I found out I was carrying twins." 

"That's not all you found out."

"It really is."

"CJ, please... tell me?" Sam's eyes begged with her for this little bit of knowledge.

CJ shrugged a bit, then moved over to the couch. "Don't tell anyone else. Don't. I mean it, Sam."

"Okay. And you want me to not wig out, too, right?"

"That would be helpful if you avoided wigging out entirely, especially in front of people, but it's a perfectly appropriate response." CJ took a breath and started.


	14. We Had Some Jackets Made

_We Had Some Jackets Made_

"I'm still getting questions about New Mexico." 

"Screw it."

"They're still going to ask..."

"Screw it. It's small potatoes and they know it."

"Doesn't that make it easier to kick it across the field?" Josh said, interjecting into the back and forth between CJ and Leo. They both leveled a look at him.

"How is it you're still alive?" Sam wondered to Josh.

"It's the dimples."

"Will the two of you shut up?" Toby asked. "It's a wonder we get anything done around here." 

"Yeah." Leo studied his desk for a minute. "Don't forget we have that thing here tomorrow night."

"What thing?"

"The dinner thing."

"Oh, my God."

"CJ, I agree, but we've got to be there." 

"No, I mean, oh, my, God." CJ pinched the bridge of her nose. "I haven't had to attend something formal in a few weeks..." _and I wish I didn't have to, because I hate feeling put on display... 'oh, look, poor CJ, but she looks good, doesn't she?' Bite me, you jerks. But I've got to go._

"Nothing fits?" Toby finally asked, after an exceptionally long pause. 

"Nothing fits," CJ confirmed. "Leo?" 

"Congratulations on coming up with the best excuse for not coming to a formal event I've seen. And go get yourself a dress." 

"Thank you."

"There are formal gowns in the maternity section?" Josh queried.

"The offer to help me look is still open, Josh."

"Never mind." 

"I'm borrowing Donna for a long lunch, though." 

"Hey!"

"Josh, it's the only time she'll have more than fifteen minutes off the whole week. We're having lunch, or at least she is, I may be having crackers, and then we are tracking down something I can wear when I'm four months pregnant with twins." CJ aimed another look at him, this time arching her eyebrows, highlighting in a fashion which was almost undoubtedly unintentional the haunted eyes below them.

Josh surrendered. It's possible that Toby smirked under his beard, and Sam smiled a bit. "Way to go, Josh." Leo looked from one to the other of them with something vaguely resembling a grin, and threw up his hands.

"I don't know exactly why I hired you, but go work, all right?"

* * *

"Carol, I'm about to go to lunch."

"All right. Back in an hour and a half?"

"Do you think there's a good selection of formal gowns for pregnant women somewhere out there?"

"I'm sure you can find it," Carol smiled back.

CJ looked at her for a long moment. She had to start asking sometime... although she didn't relish what would probably be a conversation filled with smart remarks when she asked Josh... "Actually, Donna's not quite ready yet. Come in for a second?"

"Okay." Carol followed CJ into her office and shut the door. "Everything okay?"

CJ shook her head and waved a hand. "No, no, this isn't anything bad or a story we're going to get hit with or anything. It's just... I'm going to be asking a lot of people this, and it seemed only fair to ask you first, since you have to put up with me all the time..." she sighed, and tucked her hair behind one ear. "One of the things my brother said when he was here was that he understood I had people that were as good as family. I guess what I'm trying ask is whether you'll help me with that."

"You're asking me if-"

"-you'd like to be known as Aunt Carol to these two little troublemakers, yes." CJ flinched a little, but flippancy was often her only defense against the terror trying to swallow her.

Carol smiled very broadly indeed. "I'd love to. Does that include diaper changes?"

"We'll make Josh do that," CJ returned dryly.

"Okay," Carol laughed back. "Thank you. I'm really honored."

"Get the sap away from me," CJ grinned. "Now I'm really going." 

"See you. Good luck!"

"Thank you!"

* * *

Toby, for reasons best known to himself, had told Josh and CJ to stay together the whole evening. It probably had something to do with the way Josh kept looking at the bar, but after fifteen minutes of it, Toby had found CJ and taken her over to Josh, and told them that if CJ picked up a drink, Josh had to drink it, and if Josh picked up a drink, CJ had to drink it. Since Josh didn't want CJ to drink while she was pregnant, and CJ didn't want a drunken Josh in the papers tomorrow, they both wandered around with a glass of water. 

"You really do look nice," Josh remarked, between meaningless conversations with other attendees.

"Thank you."

"I mean it. You look good."

"And I said thank you. I still look like an elephant."

"You do not."

"And how would you know?"

"Well, aren't elephants gray?"

"You were doing so well for about 30 seconds there, Josh."

"Oops?" 

"Indeed." CJ spotted the First Lady and started pulling Josh in her direction. She really did look good; it turned out there were actually several dresses for a woman who was six feet tall and pregnant at the same time. Although CJ suspected, from the collective survey she and Donna had conducted yesterday, that her options would become a bit more limited in the next couple of months. "Ma'am," she greeted.

"CJ! You look lovely." 

"Thank you, ma'am."

Josh shuffled his feet. "Good evening, Josh. Behaving yourself?"

"No," CJ answered promptly.

"What's he done now?"

"I don't look like an elephant because elephants are gray," she supplied.

"Hey!" Josh protested, blushing. "You know I'm here, right?"

"All too well, I can assure you, monkey boy," CJ shot back.

"I wasn't the one who said you looked like an elephant."

"Josh, in that situation you're supposed to simply reassure the woman that she looks magnificent," Abbey advised him.

"I did!" 

"And leave it at that. If necessary, use variations on magnificent, but don't make the mistake of putting your foot in your mouth."

"I do that all the time."

"And have you noticed, Josh, that I love it even less than usual?" CJ inquired.

He groaned. "Good man," the First Lady approved. "You can go ask my husband for some horror stories from when I was pregnant with Liz if you want, but there is no safe route out from here." She smiled, with a hint of wickedness. "Go enjoy yourselves... and CJ?"

"Yes, ma'am?" 

"Sit down soon. You're limping again."

"That's the problem with a formal event after I've been working all day, ma'am, but I'll see if I can place Josh in someone else's unsuspecting care."

"Oh, he can sit with you." Josh's eyes widened in horror, and CJ laughed.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"Leo?" CJ inquired at his office door Saturday morning.

"Yeah, come on in, CJ." He moved a folder from one stack to another, and placed his glasses on the desk. "Is New Mexico still a thing?"

"No, I think they got the message."

"Okay. What are you doing here on a Saturday morning, CJ?"

"I've got stuff to do." 

"Yeah. If it's not New Mexico...?"

"No, nothing else came up."

"CJ, you should be resting more."

"I'm fine."

Leo regarded her with decidedly paternal concern. "CJ..."

"Leo," she returned with exasperation. "I just wanted to ask you something, and then I'm going to go sit down and put my feet up, all right?"

"That was more than I wanted to know, but yeah, sure."

"I'd like you to be grandfather to the twins."

CJ watched while it sunk in. "Are you sure?" he finally asked, trying to offset some very soft feelings. "I can be a pretty mean guy."

"I'm sure." And she wished and hoped beyond hope that he need never find out why she was asking now; why she was following up so very strongly on her brother's assertion that she did have a family here. Her silent misgivings on how it would look were held silent by her determination to follow through entirely and guarantee that nurture, at least, would not be working against these two. Hopefully everyone else here would see it the same way, if only for her sake, and she thanked God again that they were girls.

Leo smiled his brilliant smile. "Then I accept. But no diapers." 

"Wouldn't dream of it." CJ smiled back, and something deeper than words went through the air over Leo's crowded desk. Finally, Leo nodded a couple of times.

"You're asking the guys to play dad?" he inquired.

"I didn't think I needed to," CJ returned.

"Say something to them before the first week in February, will you?" 

"Yeah. Thank you, Leo."

"No, thank you, CJ." Leo put his glasses back on and reached for the next folder with almost unnatural relish.

"Toby wants to see you in his office," Margaret said to CJ as she stepped out of Leo's office.

"Now?" Margaret just nodded. "Okaaaay."

When she arrived at Toby's office, she was only half-surprised to find Josh and Sam also waiting. "What's up?" she asked, coming in and closing the door.

"It's come to our attention-" Sam started.

"-and we don't mean to put any pressure on you or anything," Josh interjected. 

"-that you've been asking certain people to help you out with the twins."

"We were just wondering what we're doing," Toby added from his chair.

CJ looked at them and sighed, even though what she wanted to do was cry for relief that they wanted to do this, that these three men had teamed up to make it clear they were willing. "Can I sit down? I promised someone I'd sit down and put my feet up, and I'd like to be able to do one of those things." There was some shuffling, but CJ wound up on one end of the couch with Toby on the other, her feet in his lap. He slipped her shoes off as though it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be sitting there on a Saturday morning, massaging CJ's feet and legs.

"CJ?" Sam prompted after a minute. CJ looked at him sharply.

"I didn't think I needed to ask you guys," she said quietly. Toby stopped what he was doing and lifted his eyebrows a little. "I mean, I didn't think I needed to ask you guys to be honorary fathers, because you're already acting that way."

Josh grinned. Sam smiled warmly. Toby just resumed his massage work.

"Is that a yes?"

"We need to say it?"

"No." CJ smiled with relief.

"Do we get to plan your baby shower?"

"No!"

* * *

About two weeks later, the President called Charlie into the Oval after yet another meeting about the estate tax bill.

"Yes, sir?"

"Charlie, you feeling all right?" Leo queried from his position by the President's desk.

"Yeah, Leo, thanks." Charlie's odd expression of shock and nervousness didn't fade, however. "You've got the ambassador in the Mural Room, sir."

"Charlie, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing, sir."

"Charlie, you look like... well, I don't know what you look like, but you look like you got ran over by something or other."

"Well, sir," Charlie started slowly, "CJ just stopped by, and-" he hastened his reassurance at the sudden look of alarm on the faces of the two older men "-nothing's wrong with her, sir. She asked me to be an honorary uncle to the babies. And I was just-"

The President moved forward and looked his aide in the eye. "Charlie, congratulations; we're having jackets made."

"She asked you too, sir?"

"Well, of course she did, but what she said was, 'Mr. President, I was wondering if you and the First Lady could be grandparents to the babies?', after which I considered checking with Abbey for about two seconds and then said yes." The President gripped Charlie's arms. "Charlie, this is a wonderful honor, and you won't be doing it alone. Now, what color would you like your jacket?"

"Thank you, sir. I think maroon would be good," he returned.

"We don't have that, but we'll do our best." He stepped back and visibly switched gears, while Leo smiled. "Mural Room?" 

"Yes, sir."

Leo came up to him as the President went out. "Better to do all your freaking out now," he advised, "but if you're in the delivery room, I can guarantee that's not gonna happen."

"The delivery room?" 

"See what I mean?" Leo patted Charlie. "Go back to work, kid."

"Yeah." Charlie looked out the windows absentmindedly, and then turned around. "Yeah."

* * *

"Hey, CJ-ow!" Sam jumped back.

CJ could feel herself turning an incredibly bright scarlet all the way to her toes. "Oh, damn... are you okay?"

"Except for a bruise shaped like your elbow across my ribs, yeah." Sam eyed her carefully. "Are you all right?"

"You startled me."

"Are you all right?" Sam repeated, and only then did CJ realize what, exactly, he was asking her: if time had frozen, again, in an instant of utter backwardness, so there was nothing but that horrible, horrible moment that stretched on...

"Yeah, I'm here, Sam," she assured with a smile. He peered at her carefully, and nodded.

"You know, sometimes when I look at you, it amazes me that I don't keep seeing what I saw when Donna brought me in..."

"Me too," CJ returned quietly. They started walking speedily again. "Actually, I was coming to ask you something--can I do that now?"

"You ready for the veto?"

"Yeah. I'll be around during the Nobel dinner in case anything comes up." 

"Why aren't you going?"

"Because I'm too big to fit into the chairs, Sam."

"No, really." 

"Because it involves too much walking around, and I'm not sure I can fit into the dress I got a few weeks ago, even if I wanted to wear the same one to two dinners in a row."

"Ah. Speaking of that..." CJ raised a dangerous eyebrow at him. "Speaking of that, how are the ultrasounds and other stuff going?"

"Fine. They're good."

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure, since you hadn't asked any of us to come with you..." Sam's eyes were suddenly deep with fear.

CJ put a hand on his arm in brief exasperation and considerably more affection. "I'm a big girl, Sam," she said.

"CJ, what about..."

"It's fine." CJ stopped inside Sam's office door and eyed him carefully. "Don't freak out, all right?"

"I'm not freaking out. Then again, you haven't asked me anything yet, so it'd be hard for me to freak out." 

"Good point. Sam, I'd like to put 'Spanky' on your jacket for the thing." It was just so much easier to pretend than it should be, for something like this; so much easier to use her and her colleagues' deftness with words to avoid the big questions and instead ask things like that.

"That's your question?"

"Yes or no."

"What jacket?"

"The jackets you guys had made," she said, tilting her lips into a smile.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Well?"

"I'd rather not..."

"Okay." 

"Was that your question?"

"No, I was just messing with you."

"Okay."

"Sam, I know this is a big favor to ask of you, and would be even if we didn't both work in the White House, but I'd like for you to be my lamaze partner. I've got to start attending sessions soon..." 

"Lamaze? Isn't that the breathing thing so nobody's head gets ripped off during labor?"

"Very funny, Spanky."

"Why'd you ask me?"

"Sam, can you really imagine Toby or Josh at a lamaze session?" 

"What about Donna or Charlie?"

"It's not supposed to be another woman, and Charlie's still freaking out." 

"Okay." Sam stared into space in the way he had that was almost adorable. "Yeah, all right... what do I need to study up on?"

"Sam," CJ said, grinning, "you are a total dork."

"I know."

"Thanks, Sam."

"You're welcome, CJ."

* * *

"Where were you?" Toby wanted to know as soon as CJ and Sam came in the door.

"Lamaze class," CJ returned, as if daring him to say something stupid.

"Sam's your lamaze partner?"

"Is there a reason we were paged, Tobus? Because I can assure you that having both our pagers go off in the middle of a breathing exercise is not the way for me to make friends with anyone."

"I was having fun," Sam said.

"I noticed, Spanky."

"There may be a thing with a sub."

"This isn't the kind you eat?" CJ made a face at Toby.

"No." 

"Where is it?"

"I don't know. Leo just wanted both of you back here in case something broke."

"Okay. I'm going to go to my office and relax or something, all right?" 

"Okay," Toby answered.

CJ ran into Ainsley as she exited the bullpen. "The quest for Fresca?" she inquired.

"That and possibly some muffins," Ainsley told her.

"Thank you for the advice, by the way." 

"You're welcome. Were you able to complete everything?" 

"Yeah, I think so." CJ sighed as she continued toward her office, limping a little bit. "Good luck with the Fresca and muffin hunt!"

"Thank you," the lawyer accented back.

"What are you doing back?" Josh asked, coming up behind her.

"Toby paged us out of lamaze class," CJ griped. Josh smirked, and CJ smacked him. 

"Ow!"

"Do not mock the lamaze, Josh." 

"I wasn't mocking the lamaze, I was just mocking, you know, Sam and his geekery in a lamaze class." Josh's expression indicated that he was aware of an incipient and possibly scathing retort.

"He's surviving pretty well, actually." CJ lifted an eyebrow. "Speaking of which, Josh... in addition to the jackets proudly announcing your honorary parenthood I've been hearing so much about, do you suppose it's possible there will also be jackets emblazoned 'The Idiot Boys'?"

Josh pouted, and CJ just smirked as she continued to her office. There was a lot she could write up if she was stuck here for as long as she suspected she might be, and she may as well make some more dents in the enormous amount of work she still needed to finish.


	15. I've Been Faking It

_I've Been Faking It_

"CJ?" Carol stuck her head into the office. 

"Yeah?" CJ answered absentmindedly, typing. '... stalling, then we could have lowered expectations...'

"We want to know when we can have your baby shower."

'... but we have to raise them-' "What?"

"Your baby shower. We want to know when to have it."

"First of all, you're freaking me out, second of all, who's 'we', and third of all... you're freaking me out." It was very strange to see CJ, who parried unexpected questions so well at briefings, so taken aback by this one.

"We. The assistants. Bonnie and Ginger are trying to plan it, but they don't know when it should be." Carol tilted her head just a little bit, and shot her boss a look that said 'You do remember you're pregnant, right?'

"Never is too soon. Wait... it's really too soon." CJ sighed and looked to Gail, as if for guidance. "Sometime the world isn't ending would be good."

"Okay, do we have a schedule for that?" 

CJ looked up at Carol in amusement and surprise. "Have you been taking lessons in being mouthy from Donna?"

"Nope. I've always been like this."

"Okay." CJ could feel herself smiling a bit, and pursed her lips as she thought. "Between Thanksgiving and Christmas; not when anything major is already on the schedule. How about soon and then moving it back?" 

"I'll tell them that. And I'm freaking you out?" 

CJ angled one eyebrow. "You're not supposed to remind me that I'm more pregnant than I was a few weeks ago," she told her assistant dryly.

"I must have missed that briefing." 

"It was a message. Woman to woman."

"Right." Carol smiled. "And more pregnant?"

CJ rolled her eyes. "Go away."

"I'm freaking you out? You seem pretty calm."

"I'm faking it. And go away." 

"Okay." Carol just smiled again and backed out of the office. "You're with Toby in twenty minutes. Don't forget lunch."

"CJ, are you skipping lunch again?" Donna asked as she came up with some files.

"I have too many mothers right now, and most of you are younger than I am, which is pretty disturbing..." CJ retorted, still seated in front of her computer. She closed the file and brought up her email instead. 

"She's been faking it," Carol confided in Donna in a stage whisper.

"Carol!" CJ howled from her office.

Carol looked at Donna. "Is Josh contagious?" she inquired. "Because usually CJ doesn't yell for me..." 

Donna raised her eyebrows speculatively. "It's possible, although I certainly hope not." She took a couple of folders from Carol and stepped into CJ's office.

"Yes, I'm not terribly busy, thank you for knocking," came the preemptive strike.

"I noticed. Come have lunch with me."

"I have a thing with Toby." As Donna started to smirk, CJ rolled her eyes again and then smiled a little sheepishly. "Not like that. But I can't have lunch right now."

"Eat something. You're working really hard." Donna couldn't help but eye CJ with some concern; she looked pretty good, but had a sort of stressed appearance, a pushed look that Donna couldn't figure out. 

"I work at the White House." CJ put on her glasses and opened a memo she needed to read before the meeting with Toby. 

"CJ..." Donna sighed. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"I won't; I'm reading this memo."

Donna reappeared in a few minutes, holding a bag. "In this bag, there is a sandwich, half a muffin, some baby carrots, and a little bowl of grapes. You're going to eat all of it before your meeting, and you'll also have a bottle of water." 

"I'm going to be late," CJ objected automatically, looking at the bag with some interest. The truth was that she had actually forgotten again that she was hungry, and didn't want to admit it, lest she have the entire senior staff and assistant corps, as well as possibly the President and First Lady, stopping by every ten minutes to make sure she had eaten something.

"CJ, you're going into the meeting with Toby," Donna emphasized, with an expression she usually reserved for Josh being more Josh than usual. "You can be late, or I'll tell him that you haven't been paying attention to yourself." CJ's eyes became huge, and she took off the glasses, snapped the memo closed, and reached for the bag.

"Give me that." Donna grinned mischievously. 

"I knew you'd see the light. Have a good lunch!" She nearly bounced out of the room.

"Carol, can you give Toby an excuse, please?" CJ asked, contemplating the food. 

"Something besides 'she's finishing her lunch?'" Carol called back. She might have been smirking, but CJ couldn't tell just from her tone.

"Please."

* * *

"How is this my problem?" CJ demanded of Josh on the day before Thanksgiving.

"There's press everywhere, CJ. I just made it your problem."

CJ moaned softly. "See, and I thought I was done."

"You were faking it."

"I was not faking it."

"You are now," Josh couldn't resist pointing out. CJ glowered at him. 

"Yes, Josh, I am faking it now. I suggest you come up with some way to make this up to me before I have a chance to plot appropriate retribution. By tomorrow, for example."

"Right. I'll get to work on that." Josh took off, and CJ headed for the lobby.

They were of the Stockbridge-Munsee tribe, currently living in Wisconsin, and their names were Maggie Morningstar Charles and Jack Lonefeather. To say they were not particularly happy was a strong understatement. At first, CJ just wanted to come up with something that got them out of the lobby without it being a thing, since there were indeed members of the press hanging around, but as she listened, she felt herself being drawn into it. They'd been trying to get an answer to something that was only relevant because they hadn't been treated right at some point.

CJ didn't like injustice.

Unfortunately, her lower back, bladder, and leg didn't especially care what was going on, and CJ had now been standing up for what was now, for her, a very long time indeed. She shifted and lifted her left foot a little, and Maggie, who had been pointing out how bad some of the land was, noticed, and looked more annoyed than before.

"Are we keeping you from something?" she asked. Jack, who had been looking in the middle distance as he listened, focused on CJ.

CJ had to struggle not to take a step back. She suspected this would always happen; that sometimes, when she was around unfamiliar people in a relatively open space, she'd suddenly become very nervous. "No, Maggie, not at all," she tried to reassure. "My lower back tends to bother me a lot because of the, you know, pregnancy."

"Yes," Maggie answered. She still seemed unhappy, but there was no way CJ was going to try to explain exactly why she wasn't supposed to be standing very long in an effort to mollify her.

Instead, CJ just said, "Okay, I think I understand more of what you're asking for now. I'm going to try and see if there are any other people here who could help you."

"We'll be here," Jack responded for them.

After running through ideas with Carol, she talked with them again, then went back to see Leo in an effort to convince him to spend a few minutes with them. Her lower leg was twinging with strain almost constantly, and she'd pulled her cane out of its hiding place in her office by the time she was standing in front of Leo's desk, listening to him reject her plea. 

"I won't meet with someone because they're standing somewhere until they get what they want, CJ!"

She regarded him with some surprise, but understanding, too, even though she didn't like it. She wasn't even sure it would have helped, but sometimes, meeting with the Chief of Staff for a few minutes was enough so that people felt like they got what they wanted, even if they didn't. "Yeah," she finally answered, and turned around.

"CJ?"

"Take a rest soon, will you?"

"Can't. Indians in the lobby."

"I've already heard that from Josh, you know."

"Yeah." 

"You're not too tired?"

"No, Leo, and I'm not faking it right now, okay?"

"Okay. See you later." He nodded a bit as CJ exited.

"All right," CJ told Maggie and Jack as she came up to them some time later in the lobby, still with her cane. "I'm going to have the Park Police escort you from the building. That'll take a few minutes, so you can call people. Or you can come back to my office and I'll set up a meeting for you on Monday, and the White House will cover your expenses." She lifted her eyebrows just a little as they glanced at each other.

"Okay," Jack said after a few moments.

"Okay, you're..." CJ prompted.

"We'll come back to your office," Maggie answered, with a look up at Jack.

"Okay," CJ answered, relieved. She started to turn, and then faced them again. "How do you keep fighting all these small injustices when they're from the mother of all injustices?" she asked.

"What's the alternative?" Maggie responded.

"Yeah. Come on back."

* * *

"Hey, CJ!" Josh and Sam both grinned as they came up and hugged her as she and Toby stepped into Sam's apartment. This was very precious time off, and, as was perhaps typical of these four, they had elected to relax together as well as work together. Of course, no one was exactly sure how Toby felt about it, but he was here. It was also possible that there was some interest in making sure CJ got a really good meal, although whatever cooking skills Josh and Sam had between them had remained well hidden up to this point. 

"Hey. The two of you are cooking?" CJ inquired. "Am I going to have to brief about you burning down Sam's apartment?" 

"No, uh, Donna's helping." Josh fidgeted a little. 

"She's helping, or you're standing around and letting her do all the work?"

"Josh, get back in here!" Donna called. CJ smirked at the answer to her question, and Josh immediately vanished, wearing a somewhat chastised expression. Sam grinned.

"She's liking the role reversal," he told CJ, taking her coat.

"Sounds like it." CJ smiled, and Toby gently nudged her forward. Donna appeared, rubbing something off one hand.

"Hey, CJ! Oh... is your leg okay?" she asked; it was very unusual for CJ to be using the cane anytime before late afternoon, and even then, she usually avoided being seen with it as much as possible.

"I stood too long yesterday," CJ told her. "I'll be okay, though... you working Josh hard enough?"

"I'm trying," Donna answered, an evil grin threatening to take over her face.

"Donna!" Josh fussed from out of sight.

"I'm coming, Josh!" Donna yelled back. "Sam, could you come help?"

"Sure," Sam answered. "Go ahead and sit down, you guys." He disappeared, while Toby guided CJ to a couch.

"Yes, hello, good to see you too," Toby muttered softly as he took CJ's shoes off. CJ just laughed a little.

"You brought me, Toby. Of course they are."

"They could have said hello," Toby retorted, helping her stretch out so she could put her legs up.

"Yes, well..." Josh suddenly bounced in from the kitchen, and CJ looked up. "Josh?" she inquired, a semi-dangerous hint somewhere in the back of her voice. 

"I remembered, CJ," he told her. Coming around the couch, he crouched next to it and whispered something in her ear. CJ reached a hand up and laid it across one cheek, smiling a little tearfully. "Is that good enough?" he wanted to know. 

"Yes, Josh, it's good enough." CJ looked down. "It's just the hormones," she tried to excuse.

"Great." He returned her gesture, passing up the chance for a joke she'd just handed him, and they sat there like that for a moment.

Finally, CJ moved her hand. "Better go back to the kitchen," she advised.

"Yeah." He stood up. "We're going to have a great dinner... if you get hungry, there's some appetizers or something... just yell!" He vanished.

Toby looked at her. "What did he say?" he asked, though suspicious CJ wouldn't tell him.

"He said he'd be there."

"That was it?"

"I'm not going to tell you all of it, Toby." She reached for his hand.

He took it. "You know, that actually smells good," he admitted, glancing in the direction of the kitchen.

"It's Thanksgiving, Toby; everything's good."

"Did you take an optimism pill this morning?"

"I'm faking it, Toby. Don't let me sleep through dinner."

"I won't," he reassured her, regarding her with care. "I'll be right here."

* * *

"I'm not ready for this," CJ protested. She rocked back and forth nervously, although at over seven months pregnant it bore more resemblance to a duck waddling in slow motion. 

"Should have thought of that earlier," Donna told her.

"How much earlier?"

"Before you got on the elevator?"

"Turn it around," CJ directed immediately. "I forgot something at the office." 

"It's an elevator, CJ; I don't think you can exactly turn it around," Donna chuckled. "And I know you didn't forget anything, because you were going through a checklist a mile long and forgetting all of it on purpose."

"Damn. Caught," CJ griped, but she looked at Donna as she spoke, and laughed a little. "It's just that somehow it's not concrete until I've got baby stuff all over my apartment..." The doors opened, and they stepped out.

"We're ready," Margaret said, eyes slightly wider than usual. "Or at least Ginger and Bonnie say the presents are ready; I don't know about the rest of us. The First Lady and Zoey are there," she added, almost whispering.

"Let's go," CJ tried to turn back to the elevator. Donna pulled on her arm.

"At least the guys aren't there," she pointed out.

"That's a very small favor," CJ said dryly.

"Do you need anything?" Margaret asked, walking next to Donna.

"A sedative."

"Really?"

"No." 

"Okay. Because you really shouldn't be having a sedative instead of opening presents. It would take the fun out of it, and also, I'm not sure it's entirely safe," Margaret said.

"Yeah." Margaret opened the door, and several women turned around and smiled. The First Lady came up immediately, and Donna pulled Margaret away to try and guess what was in the packages.

"You look very good, CJ," Abbey told her, pulling her down for a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"CJ, please, call me Abbey today, won't you?"

"Of course."

"And you really do look good. You look almost tranquil," she complimented.

"Thank you," CJ smiled just a little, looking wide-eyed in the direction of the presents.

"You're faking it, aren't you?" Abbey guessed, coming close to grinning.

"Yeah, just a little."

Abbey leaned in to whisper. "I did too," she confided. CJ was astonished, and said so. "Every time," the First Lady confirmed. "But that's what this is for." 

"Okay." CJ let Abbey pull her in the direction of the presents and find a seat.

"Listen up, everybody," Bonnie called after a couple of minutes of chatter. "Welcome to CJ's baby shower-"

"-attempt the fourth," Ginger added.

"Shh, no tempting fate," Bonnie said hastily, remembering Toby's lecture during the Mendoza confirmation vote.

Ginger put her hand to her mouth, wide-eyed. "No tempting fate," she agreed. There was laughter.

"Anyway, welcome to CJ's baby shower. You have to let the guest of honor--that's CJ--open all of the presents, and any men that come in you get to chase out and put something pink on them while you're doing it, so let's hope Toby doesn't come in!"

"Now I'm going to be thinking about that the whole time," Ginger said as the whole room started laughing.

"All the presents are organized by size and who they're from," Margaret put in from the side. "Do you have anything you want to say before we get started, CJ?"

"Thank you all for holding this for me, and I hope we won't be interrupted?" CJ said lightly with a smile.

"Tempting fate!" Ginger called, and there was reaching for the nearest good luck charm of choice. CJ cursed under her breath, laughing.

"We won't be interrupted," Abbey assured, her eyes glinting. "Or so my husband assures me."

CJ couldn't help but grin. "And what happens if Josh needs me for a press issue?" she inquired sweetly.

"The penalty for interruption is a seat next to the President on the next transoceanic flight," Abbey told the room. There were ooohs, aaaahs, and speculation as to who might interrupt the shower.

"Let's get started, folks!" Margaret said after a few minutes, picking up the first present. "Have fun, CJ," she said softly as she handed it over. CJ smiled up at her and took a deep breath, then opened it.

It was fun. There were presents from everyone there and from their bosses as well, and from a few reporters or their paper. CJ opened one package to find two little stuffed animals from Zoey, and looked across at her.

"They were mine, when I was a baby," Zoey explained shyly. "I was going to keep them, but I was thinking about what to get you, and realized I had them here, and since you're having twins..." She didn't finish, since CJ had stood up, still holding the animals, and wrapped Zoey in a hug. 

"Thank you," she said, stepping back to smile down at Zoey, who smiled back up at her.

A bit later, CJ opened a flat package to find a signed requisition from Leo's office for an addition to her office space. She looked up at Margaret.

"I forged it," the redhead returned solemnly. No one knew exactly how the rumors about Margaret's forging ability had started, but they had been making their way through the staff for over a year now. "Actually, Leo really signed it, but I found the extra space," Margaret added to varied grins and smirks from most of the women in the room, including CJ.

"Thank you, that's wonderful," CJ told her, looking down at the paper again. "I hadn't really thought about that, actually. Carol, you may have to move," she said to her assistant, who just grinned, her eyes sparkling a little. 

"Margaret and I plotted," Carol told her. "I think they're going to move some of my office walls and then one of yours. But I think you'll like it."

"Doesn't that make you my babysitter?" CJ inquired with raised eyebrows. 

"You know, I think it does. I'll train them to start crying when I'm on the phone with someone I don't like," Carol joked.

"Hey, can we take turns?" Bonnie asked. "Because there are some calls I want a good reason to end..." The rest of the assistants laughed.

"We can negotiate that," CJ advised. She continued, finding outfits coordinated in pairs that looked good together but were completely different, baby blankets that were the same way, and some other things that she hadn't even thought about yet.

Finally, Ginger and Bonnie brought over some very large packages. "These are from the President, Leo, Toby, Josh, and Sam," Margaret introduced. 

"I'm worried already," CJ said, examining them warily. "Is there one I should open first?"

Margaret reached for her clipboard and checked it. "Yellow, then blue, then green," she instructed.

"Okay." CJ bent down and broke open the pale yellow tissue paper. To her amazement, there were two baby car seats, one nestled within the other. Bonnie helped her separate them, and she lifted up the top one for everyone else to look at.

"It's got the Seal on it," Donna observed first, a curious note in her voice.

"What Seal?" CJ asked. Donna turned the seat so CJ could see it. 

"The Presidential Seal," she said, pointing.

"The Communications one is on the other side," Ginger said, and CJ turned it again. She grinned.

"Oh, wow. I don't know what..."

"Good thing they aren't here," Bonnie said, putting them back together and moving them so CJ could open the next one.

"Yeah, I'd never hear the end of it," CJ groaned. "I should write the thank you to them, or they'll tease me about getting all sappy."

"And this is just the first one," Abbey said from where she was sitting next to Zoey. 

"Oh, God, somebody find me a box of Kleenex," CJ said, reaching for the blue package. Zoey stood up and reached under a table, waving the retrieved box at her.

When the blue paper was laid aside, Carol was the first to find her voice. "They're beautiful," she said softly, leaning over with the other assistants. Zoey and Abbey crowded around, and the First Lady laid an astonished hand on one of the gifts. CJ laid a hand on the other one, rubbing the polished wood.

"Whose are they?" she asked finally. They were cradles, and the wood spoke of having been used before.

"This one was Mallory's... Leo gave it to us for when we had Annie over when she was a baby, or maybe even for Zoey; it's been so long I don't remember," Abbey answered. "I wondered what Jed had that look about the other day when he was asking me about presents. I don't recognize the other one, though." 

"The other one is Josh's," Donna said quietly. CJ just nodded, and put her hand at the head of the cradle.

"Where's that Kleenex?" she asked after a minute, and there was some laughter as they backed up. "Those are so beautiful," CJ said after blowing her nose. "I don't know that I can stand to put a baby in them."

"Everyone else has," Abbey pointed out. "Open the next one before you start crying, CJ," she added with a smile.

There was a large note taped to the other one, once CJ got the wrapping off. _'Hey, CJ,'_ it said. _'We hope you're enjoying your presents from the five of us. This one isn't assembled yet, and actually it's two things, just like the other ones. They're cribs; big enough so that you can have them both in one if you want for a while, and big enough to last a while, too. Let us know when you want them set up, and we'll come over and do it. The extra office space you're getting is also big enough for one, if Carol doesn't mind a smaller desk. P.S. Josh wants us to start a betting pool on when you started crying, so let us know, okay? Love, Toby, Leo, Grandpa Jed, Sam, and Josh.'_

"Awww..." CJ said, passing the note up to the gaggle of women who had been reading it over her shoulder, and looking at the two cribs. Like the cradles, they were mostly wooden, but unlike them, they appeared to be new.

"I can't believe Leo was that sentimental," Margaret remarked after a few minutes of looking at the note and cribs.

"I can't believe Toby was, and I can't believe he wrote some of it, either," Ginger said.

"He's going to be hearing about it for a while," Bonnie added. "These guys must really love you, CJ," she said with a grin.

CJ smiled quietly. "Yeah. Oh," she said, trying to get up. "Someone help me?" Donna reached forward automatically and took CJ's arms. "Thank you very much, all of you," CJ told them after she'd managed to stand upright. "Although I don't know where I'm going to put all of it."

"I can use Leo's closet. He never looks," Margaret told them, and CJ grinned and chuckled a little.

"Good idea." The assistants wandered around, picking things up and organizing the unwrapped presents carefully. CJ stepped back into a corner and watched. After a couple of minutes, Abbey came up to her. 

"What's on your mind, CJ?" she inquired gently. She had seen what could almost be called a shadow pass across CJ's face a few times when she opened presents, even as she smiled and said thank you.

"I'm not ready for this," CJ said, very quietly, unexpected tears flooding her voice. "Damn... I'm sorry. I don't want to get all emotional."

"That's to be expected. I think everyone will understand, CJ." Abbey took her arm gently. "I know you and the guys worked on strategy for this, and I know the President was very unhappy about it. He thought--he still thinks, CJ--that you're so focused on doing the right thing by him that you're not paying attention to yourself." 

"Yeah, I know." CJ looked down uncomfortably. "It wasn't just the political realities, though, Abbey. I'm not sure I would have chosen to abort even if I had been just a private citizen. When I thought about it, I'd already started thinking of them as being alive, and something that was part of me, and even though I knew I had the choice-" she stopped and shook her head. It was a deeply private thing, and one she hadn't been able to articulate to her own satisfaction even in her mind. "And my job is to protect the President. He's a good President, Abbey; he deserves a second term."

Abbey sighed deeply. "Yeah," she agreed quietly. "It drives him crazy, it could make his health worse, but he loves this job so much, CJ. But he can't always be a human being because he's so busy being the office, and I know he wants all of you to have time to be human."

"I'm plenty human, Abbey; plotting political strategy to spin this into something positive didn't take that away," CJ said, very low. Her voice was even more swallowed in tears than before, and the tears themselves spilled from her eyes before CJ brushed them away.

The First Lady looked up at CJ sharply; something in her tone had been very troublesome. She'd heard it before as a doctor, but only very rarely; that quiet, quiet undercurrent that conceals a lack of personal hope and at the same time, a wealth of hope for others. "CJ, what's going on? Is something wrong with the twins?"

Had they been completely alone, CJ would have laughed bitterly. Instead she just shook her head. "There... may be some issues," she admitted carefully.

"What kinds of issues?" 

"Abbey, I don't want... nobody knows." CJ smiled a bit as Donna and Zoey stuffed tissue paper down one another's shirts. 

"No one?"

"Sam knows. Seriously, I don't want... I want people to focus, not something else to disturb their focus. I only told Sam because I needed to ask him something related to that, and he wouldn't leave me alone until I told him." She twitched a smile, very briefly. "Actually, I caved pretty easily. But you know how Sam gets that look on his face." 

"Yes, I do. CJ, when were you going on leave?" 

"Maternity leave?" CJ asked, surprised. "Probably when I go into labor."

"CJ, you should make sure you have access to a hospital, especially if something might go wrong."

"I work in the White House, so I do have access to a hospital, and I also can't be gone any more than I absolutely have to be gone from my position."

"CJ, please, a couple of days or a week, or something?" Abbey pleaded, looking at CJ with real worry.

CJ thought a minute. "I'll tell Leo I need to start leave a week before my due date, unless Doctor Llanewyn says she thinks I'll deliver later than that." 

"All right." Abbey still thought CJ should take more time off than that, but knew it was as much as she was going to get. "We want you to be all right, CJ."

"Yeah," CJ smiled, looking at the shower presents.

"How do you like Doctor Llanewyn?"

"Very much, actually. She's got a good bedside manner, but she tells the truth."

Abbey chuckled quietly. "I know what you mean. I wish I could have done this, CJ, but-"

"-circumstances don't allow it," CJ finished. "I understand. I appreciate your helping me out at the start, though."

"Looks like they're just about done," Abbey noted, and CJ stepped forward, smiling again. But now Abbey was sure she was faking it, and wished, innocent as it was, that things could be just a little simpler.

* * *

"When did this happen?" CJ inquired, her voice deadly.

"Don't start," Toby directed.

"Don't start! When did this happen?" CJ insisted.

"Just now. Earlier today. What does it matter? It's in the last briefing of the day," he told her.

Josh and Sam were silent, watching the combatants and trying not to move; even Leo seemed unable to order Toby and CJ to knock it off.

"You mean State's announcing it."

"No, it's at your last briefing."

"It's really not," CJ told him, aiming a glare at him. He returned the look by tilting his head back a little and staring at her.

"CJ, we are renewing the deal with Qumar; we get the base, they get weapons. Some tanks, some fighters, and we get a place to refuel our planes in the Middle East for another decade."

"No." Toby stared at CJ, astounded. The other three men in the room felt their jaws drop slightly.

"Excuse me?"

"Toby, do you have any idea what they do to women in Qumar?"

"A little."

"I'm not announcing it; I won't put that kind of face front and center for this administration." CJ's stare was icy and unyielding, but Sam suspected there were some fractures developing.

"CJ, who is your boss?"

Leo wondered if CJ was aware of the way her left hand was pressed to her very rounded stomach, as she shook her head and replied, "You are."

"And who's my boss, CJ?"

"Leo." 

"Who's Leo's boss?"

"The President," CJ answered slowly. Josh stirred.

"Toby, State can-" 

"We need to emphasize the one good relationship we have in the Middle East," Toby cut him off.

"This is a good relationship?" CJ wanted to know. "This is our definition of a good relationship?"

"CJ, don't..." 

"Toby, what does it say about us-"

"CJ, I don't want to hear it." Toby was utterly entrenched in his position; it was likely that he had actually forgotten why CJ was objecting so strongly under the influence of the totally bizarre sight and sound of CJ refusing to announce something.

CJ was very human indeed.

And she still didn't like injustice, and this was not just one injustice, even Qumar taken collectively; it was many injustices, and one of them had been committed against CJ. 

"Toby," Leo finally started, watching CJ come to a boil.

Toby actually shook his head and lifted a hand at the Chief of Staff. "CJ, you will do this. You will state how pleased this administration is to have a stable regime in the Middle East with which to trade..."

"I really won't, Toby. I am not going to go out there and say this administration only cares about the women it wants to care about, and if you have a problem with that, have Simon do the briefing, because at least then it won't be a woman speaking for the administration on this." CJ stood up, fixing another glare on Toby.

"CJ, you say what this administration wants you to say-" Toby stopped talking as CJ abruptly moved past him, tossing her briefing book on the table, and reaching for the door. He was there quickly, reaching for CJ's arm before she could lay fingers to the knob.

CJ lifted her left foot and brought it down on Toby's foot, hard, then twisted a little and put her elbow into his shoulder. He stepped back in shock and pain, and CJ was gone. But they had seen the look on her face; this wasn't a flashback. CJ had known exactly what she was doing right then.

Silence, stretched thin.

"You son of a-" Sam started, then shook his head and fell silent, picking up his file and grabbing Josh. "Josh, help me find her."

Leo was on his feet too, reaching for his coat and glaring at Toby. "Go back to your office and don't take any questions on CJ or on Qumar," he instructed.

Toby stood there, too surprised to even rub his bruised shoulder, looking down at the floor. "Yeah," he responded, so quietly even Sam could hardly hear him, and went out the door.

"Let's go," Leo said, looking at Josh and Sam.

"Is she even out of the building?" Josh asked. 

"I'll check." Leo stepped out grimly and addressed Margaret. "Margaret, find out if CJ's still in the building, will you? And call Communications and ask Bonnie to bring down Sam and Josh's coats."

"Right." Margaret turned to her phone. Leo stepped back into the office.

Sam fidgeted painfully. "Let's go. We don't need coats."

"Hold on, Sam." Leo stopped himself from saying anything further. There was a tap on the door, and Bonnie came in and silently held out two coats. As she left, Margaret came in.

"CJ's left the building. About six minutes ago. Leo?"

"We'll be back shortly." Leo buttoned up his coat.

"It's freezing out," Sam said as soon as they were outside the grounds. Josh wrapped his coat more definitely around himself.

"I want my backpack."

Leo gave him a look. "Watch it, you two. I'm not sure there needs to be this many of us." 

"We're taking a stroll," Sam remarked innocently. 

"Yeah." They headed silently across the Ellipse and Constitution.

"Why are we looking here?" Josh asked, looking around. The Washington Monument lay in front of them. 

"It's the easiest place to make a frustrated walk to," Leo answered, surveying everyone in sight. "She may be sitting down. Come on." A few minutes later, Sam poked Josh urgently, and pointed. She was sitting on a bench, her fingers curled around the edge, head bent.

There was a pause as they came closer. Pedestrians went by, and they could only hope none of them had a camera.

None of them were surprised when Sam approached first, coming around the bench and bending down in front of CJ. Leo and Josh just waited, anxiety increasing as Sam reached for CJ's hair, brushing it back.

She jumped, jerking her head up to meet Sam's eyes. Her own eyes were pure crystal, faceted tears held in check in defiance of gravity. Under Sam's curious eyes, she said, "I care what it looks like."

Sam smiled, just a little, glancing over at Leo and Josh before replying. "And I care what it is. It's okay to cry, CJ." She shook her head. "CJ, come on, if you don't want to cry out here..."

"I don't need to cry," she told him, tightening her grip on the bench. Leo stepped forward, and she turned around. "Hey." 

"Hey," Leo came back. "We'll take you back. Somebody else will brief-" He realized mentioning the briefing was a mistake as she started trembling a little and shook her head definitely.

"Don't talk to me about the briefing, Leo. I can't believe we're doing this, and I can't believe it would have gotten so far as Toby even trying to tell me to announce it." 

Hesitantly, Josh came around the bench and knelt in front of CJ. His episode in her hospital room months ago and her reactions to him later, along with what they'd managed to reconstruct of the incident, gave him an insight that he suspected Leo and Sam were unable to achieve right now. "CJ, in staff you mentioned the way women are treated." Her glare would have made him back down any other time, but it confirmed he was on the right track, and so he persevered. "Is it because of what happened to you?" Sam brought fearful eyes to bear on CJ, and Leo's jaw dropped as he joined the other two men.

"They beat their women," CJ whispered, rubbing her right hand, then touching where she had received her worst concussion. "They beat them and they don't care." Suddenly the facets fractured, and the crystals that had filled her eyes spilled onto her face. "What happened to me... that's normal in Qumar. No one would have said anything there. Qumar is my last May times a million; thousands of times worse than this country as a whole, and we're not leaders in that regard. They have no recourse; no chance of the perpetrators being caught, because they're running the thing. How can we associate with a country like that?" She drew a great breath, and reached down to her left leg.

Josh screwed his eyes shut. There was utter silence. At last, Leo dropped onto the bench and put his head in his hands. "Holy hell," he whispered. Sam could not move at all.

Finally, Josh opened his eyes and reached for CJ's hand. "Come on back," he urged. Sam blinked at the intrusion of sound, and bent down to CJ again. Leo did not move. CJ herself rubbed her leg, meeting Josh's eyes uneasily. "Can you walk?" he asked quietly. She shook her head, and Sam dropped a kiss on her forehead, then carefully backed up a step. "CJ? Do you want me to carry you?" She nodded this time. "I got you."

"I know. Thanks." Josh cradled her carefully, and looked at Leo.

"Leo?" Sam prodded. The older man finally stirred and looked up.

"We haven't announced it yet... I'll talk to the President..." he said unsteadily, getting up from the bench to walk beside Sam. 

"Leo, the repercussions-" Sam started, eyes wide. 

"Shut up," CJ muttered. There was silence before Leo spoke again, changing the topic.

"CJ, I'm going to put you in the Residence for the rest of the day. Carol's going to bring some work up to you or something later." CJ muttered what sounded like a protest into Josh's shoulder, and Leo almost smiled. Almost. "We're not gonna go over your head, CJ; you should relax for a bit, okay? See how you're doing in a few hours." She nodded this time, and nothing further was said until they were almost inside the White House.

"We need a reason for this," Sam said.

"I'm pregnant and my legs are killing me," CJ retorted.

"We'll polish that up, but I like it," Josh said with a faint smirk.

"No, I'll polish it up," Sam corrected. They slowly made their way to one of the bedrooms, and Josh and Sam were shooed out by Leo.

"You going to be okay, kiddo?" he asked. CJ had already closed her eyes, but she opened them a little, and nodded at him. "Anything I can get you?"

"Can I hit Toby?"

"I think you already did."

"Yeah. But that sort of thing deserves another one, don't you think?"

"I think I can finish him," Leo said. She looked up at him in near alarm, and he corrected, "I mean, I'll take care of what happened this morning, CJ. But I'm not wading into the whole thing between you and Toby; whatever it is, it was there before you came to work in the campaign, and all I can tell him is that he needs to talk to you when you're ready."

"He will. When he can do it," CJ answered. "And there's no thing," she protested.

"I don't want to know anything, all right?"

She smiled, ever so briefly. "Yeah. I'll be okay up here," she told him again.

When Leo left, Zoey was standing in the hallway. "Is CJ okay?" she asked him.

"How'd you know she was up here?" Leo demanded, closing the door.

"My dad's the President?" she answered, eyes gleaming.

"Zoey..." 

"I didn't tell anybody else, honest. Is she okay?" 

"You can come back and knock in a bit, okay, kiddo?" 

Zoey looked worried. "Okay," she answered, biting her lip a little.

Leo pulled her into a hug. "She's gonna be fine."

* * *

"Mr. President? Leo."

Bartlet looked up in surprise. It was rare that Leo requested entrance via Charlie rather than just using the connecting door between the two offices. "All right."

"Thank you, sir." The body man stepped back, and Leo walked in, looking horrifically uncomfortable. The door shut.

"I heard there was a bit of a thing earlier," the President said after a minute.

"Yes, sir. I'm taking care of it."

"Between CJ and Toby? Good luck, my friend," Bartlet retorted.

"Actually, sir, it sparked something, or perhaps was sparked by something that's the cause of my visit." Leo slowly came closer, until he finally stood in front of the desk.

"Yes?" the President prompted.

Leo drew a breath, and his friend could practically see him making a decision. "Sir, you have to withdraw the deal with Qumar."

"What?" Bartlet took off his glasses in astonishment. "Leo... they're a stable ally in the region. That's our most convenient Middle East base for just that reason. The repercussions possible for our ability to purchase oil alone if I go back on our deal..." he shook his head vigorously.

"Sir, there's noted pressure from several countries to not deal with Islamic countries with human rights violations," Leo pointed out. The President's head came up more definitely, and he stared at his Chief of Staff.

"Leo..." he warned dangerously. "I gave my word, dammit! If CJ doesn't want to announce it at the briefing, if this is what caused the thing earlier, then we can pass it off to State, but those two have got to be professional about it and--dammit, Leo, I promised them; looked them in the eye and declared that the United States was renewing its lease on the base for another ten years and giving them guns and tanks and whatever else it was!"

Leo nodded. "I understand that, sir. But we can't do it. It's the wrong thing to do, and it sends the wrong message."

"And going back on my word doesn't?"

"We can get you out of that, sir, but we can't get you out of how it looks once it's announced." The President eyed him, and Leo attempted a different approach, elaborating on the reason for his own change of heart. "Mr. President, have the men who assaulted CJ ever been caught?" 

"You know as well as I do that they damn well have not." 

"Mr. President, how do you feel about associating with a country that makes no attempt to catch the men who commit assault, because it's practically an official position?"

"Leo, where the hell is this concern coming from? We're working on our own problems with violence against women, and we're encouraging several countries in the Middle East to do likewise."

His best friend paused, then nodded to himself and fixed his hazel orbs squarely on the man behind the desk. "Because, Mr. President, CJ's right, and we're wrong."

Bartlet sat down.

The clock continued ticking on its own, as the two men stared at each other.

"What happened, Leo?" he finally asked. 

"Toby tried five different ways to order CJ to announce it at the last briefing of the day. Eventually, she'd had enough and left the staff meeting, but not before Toby tried to stop her and got CJ's shoe stomped on his foot and her elbow in his shoulder." 

"And where were the rest of you during this entertaining exchange?"

"Attempting to stop the fully loaded train that is a determined Toby Ziegler," Leo answered dryly. 

"Yeah, good luck with that. What happened after?" 

"Sam, Josh, and I found CJ by the Monument after I told Toby to keep to his office for the time being. We asked her what was wrong and the short version is what I told you a few minutes ago." 

"Where's CJ now?"

"The Residence. Zoey's probably keeping her company."

The President massaged his forehead absentmindedly. "I'll think about it. I want to see you and the three guys for at least fifteen minutes later in the day."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Leo."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Leo retreated to his own office.

* * *

"What did she say?" Toby asked intensely. His voice was very quiet, but decidedly demanding. Sam and Josh had arrived at his office several minutes ago and stared at him, until he finally looked up and waved his arms around at them, whereupon they had stepped in.

"She wants to hit you over the head with something hard," Josh told him. It was an understandable response.

"Well, I could have guessed that, Josh! What did she say?"

"Would you like the short version, because I don't think I can quote her," Sam inquired. 

"Whatever. One of you tell me something before I go find her."

"That's an incentive for us not to say anything, Toby, so we can see the Secret Service smack you around," Josh responded.

"What do the two of you need to hear?" Toby demanded, waving his arms a bit and shaking his head in the odd way he had. "Do I need to apologize or promise to write the whole State of the Union or something?"

"It wouldn't be us you need to apologize to," Sam informed him. Josh folded his arms.

"Okay. I will apologize to CJ as soon as I can get within, you know, earshot or something without being tackled by you two amateur bodyguards and the fifteen closest agents."

At this point, Sam looked at Josh and shrugged, nodding just a little bit. "She said what happened to her last May was an everyday incident in Qumar," Josh said. "That... help me out here, Sam."

"Qumar is what happened to CJ times a million, and far worse than the United States, and as a country we haven't exactly shown ourselves to be serious about violence against women," Sam supplemented. "'How can we associate with a country like that?'" he quoted.

Toby's lips twitched, and he dropped into his chair. "She doesn't want it to happen at all; it makes it look like we don't really care about how women are treated," he said. It was half a question.

"I think that's the case, and I'd add that at this point it means we do care, but only when it's convenient," Josh replied.

Sam fiddled with his glasses. "Even if we do still go through with the deal, we need to pass it off to State."

"Yeah, I'll send it over. Wait. 'Even if?' What the hell, Sam?"

"Um, either CJ was very persuasive or Leo wasn't all that thrilled about the deal anyway. He's going to try to convince the President to get out of it," Josh said.

Toby stood up again. "Is he trying to piss them off? They're a stable government, and to brush them off like this--the repercussions--is he insane?"

Neither of them answered, and after a moment, he sat back down. Leo appeared in the doorway. "My office, then the Oval. Bring something to write on."

"Leo, what are we-?" Josh started. 

"The President's thinking about the deal with Qumar. We're going to talk about it, and then we're going to talk about it with the President."

"Where's CJ on this?" Sam wanted to know.

"She's in the Residence for the day; Carol's taking some work up to her, but she's off the podium until tomorrow. We're not marginalizing her, Sam; this is taking place because of her." Leo made a gesture toward the door.

"Okay," Sam nodded.

Three hours later, the United States withdrew its deal to sell arms to Qumar in exchange for a base on Qumari soil, and personnel were given notice of base closure. CJ was curled up on a bed in the Residence when all the briefings had passed without mention of the base renewal. She looked at Zoey, puzzled, but unwilling to say anything to the young woman about it. Zoey smiled and turned something over. CJ chuckled softly.

There was a knock, and the door opened. Leo, Josh, Sam, and Toby came in and looked at her. Zoey took a look at them and ducked out the door.

CJ adjusted the pillows behind her lower back before she said anything. "What happened?" she asked, one hand running over her stomach.

"The President withdrew the deal with Qumar," Leo told her.

She looked from one to the other in confusion. "But-"

"The deal's been withdrawn. Qumar's going to have to deal with it."

CJ blinked. "Um, okay. Why?"

Toby stepped forward very slowly. "Because," he said quietly, "a very smart woman asked earlier how we could associate with a country like that." He stood and waited, while CJ stared at him.

"I'm not supposed to influence policy like that," she said softly, looking down.

"You reminded us that we're supposed to be doing something good," Josh said. CJ looked up and smiled at him.

"Hey, um... do you guys want to hear the twins' heartbeats?"

They all nodded, and Toby, the closest, sat down and bent over her. She smacked him lightly on the head. "Ow."

"I'm still pissed at you," CJ advised him.

"I'm sorry, CJ. Can I listen?" She nodded, tilting her head at the double meaning of his request.

"Are they kicking tonight?" Sam asked.

"You betcha. Feel right here," and she put her hand where she could feel little feet doing a dance.

"They seem eager to be out in the world," Josh said, wide-eyed.

CJ couldn't resist a smirk. "They're faking it, Josh."


	16. You've Been A Friend

_You've Been A Friend_

"I'm still not sure Bruno knows it's a strategy," Josh confided.

"I'm not sure we know it's a strategy," Sam remarked from the chair next to him. They all looked at CJ, who was, as usual, sitting on her couch with her feet in Toby's lap. 

"CJ?" Josh prompted after a minute. CJ rubbed her face with her hands and looked up.

"Yeah?" She looked around briefly. "Sorry, I was thinking about how grumpy Leo was when the requisition fell through."

"How grumpy Leo was?" Sam repeated in disbelief. "Carol ran down here to complain to Bonnie and Ginger so fast..."

"Leo knew his chances weren't good," Toby advised. "He wanted to do it anyway."

"Yeah," CJ sighed.

"So what are you going to do?" Sam asked.

CJ shrugged a little in frustration. "There's got to be something." 

"You going to walk around with infant twins?" Josh inquired.

She sighed, leaning her head back, which in turn highlighted the stress lines in her face. "I don't know... I've been so focused on the thing." Shifting a little, she leaned against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

"CJ," Toby said softly.

"Hmmm?" she murmured, opening one eye as if to ask why they dared disturb her again.

"We were talking about the way we spun your pregnancy and no one knows," Sam finally reminded after a minute. CJ considered this before sitting up fully and looking around the room.

"I look like a truck," she said.

Josh quirked his mouth a bit. "That was relevant to the topic at hand."

"It's true. I'm huge. It's got to be more than two babies in there," CJ complained.

"Can we shut up or find something actually productive to talk about?" Toby requested.

"How come you're always the one giving CJ a massage?" Josh asked him. 

"Because Sam's my lamaze partner and I can never tell when you're going to pinch me, Josh," CJ answered for him.

"I wouldn't pinch you!" Josh protested. Toby and CJ looked at one another, and Toby shrugged.

"She kicks if you pinch," he warned, getting up. Josh couldn't tell whether he was serious or not, which was a fairly common state of affairs with Toby. He settled down and started rubbing CJ's leg gently.

"CJ?" Sam asked after a minute.

"Hmmm?"

"Strategy, CJ. There's about six weeks left until your due date. Most of it's been played out." Sam fiddled uncomfortably with the pen in his hands.

"And you want to know how I think it went?" 

"Well, yeah... it's your life we were being asked to play with," Josh said.

"By me, Josh. And I think it went well, and I was absolutely petrified every time I got up on that podium when we'd done something that was, you know... related to the thing. I was so scared of getting the question." CJ pinched her nose, looking down.

"Did you?"

"Was I asked if the administration was basing reelection strategy in part on my assault and pregnancy in order to achieve political points, Josh? Not that way, no, and the few times it almost came to that were well after I came back; Toby scared them too much for them to ask it right out, ever."

"What would you have done differently if you'd known it was twins?" Josh asked. Ordinarily it was the sort of near-challenge Toby would lay down, but he knew better than to try it right now.

CJ poked her toes into his stomach. "Just amusing myself," she answered his yelp. "I actually don't know, Josh. That meeting would have run longer, though." The rapid change between witty lightness and quiet tension was painfully typical of CJ as of late... and although she didn't know it, they worried it was more than hormones and the inherent stress of her job.

"Probably until 7 am the next morning," Josh remarked, resuming his ministrations. She nodded. He felt her scar carefully, and CJ watched him thoughtfully. He looked up to meet one of her small, careful smiles, and thought again about how incredibly difficult this must have been for CJ. They'd all tried to support her, true, but between their talent for being stupid and professional demands, she still had to bear much of it alone with what grace she had. One night shortly after Thanksgiving, they'd been huddled in Toby's office and suddenly started discussing whether CJ knew how attractive she was right now; pregnancy had softened some aspects, while leaving alone certain things that were just... CJ.

As if reading Josh's mind, Toby suddenly said, "You know, you're absolutely beautiful right now."

She brushed a hand across her face and laughed a bit. "Yeah, right."

"You are," Josh insisted. She seemed to check his face for signs of a joke, and finally acquiesced with a smile. "But I'll bet you'll be glad to rest a bit and get back to normal," he added.

CJ had already started to rotate her head toward Sam; now she looked right at him. He actually opened his mouth to speak, and she arched an eyebrow at him. He shut his mouth, but felt disquiet, for he knew Josh didn't know. Neither did anyone else. He shifted a bit before moving back to the topic.

"You know, if we had to base strategy on you, CJ, I wish we could have done bigger things with it. More funding or bills on violence against women, education..." Sam trailed off as CJ stared at him.

"Actually, Sam, I would have found that more offensive than making myself into a political tool."

"Why?" Toby inquired. 

"Because then I would have hurt the President, and I would have just been held up as the Press Secretary who got attacked and then tried to get the administration to act in sympathy with my ordeal."

"So, you prefer it this way?" Sam asked.

"If it was going to happen, Sam, yes, I do; we've actually managed to get some fairly conservative groups lukewarm about us, and women's groups are taking a good, hard look. So far, this has helped the President, not hurt him."

"There's time to jinx it," Toby told her. She chuckled and then put her head in her hands.

"Okay, we helped the President, who didn't even approve of you or us doing this," Josh granted. "What about you, CJ? What were you besides petrified?" 

She looked from one to the other. "Why are we talking about this now?"

"CJ, you've been here early and staying late; you look tired all the time, and you look like you're waiting for something bad to happen," Toby observed. "It's a reasonable question, and we all happened to be here and curious about it at the same time."

CJ carefully avoided looking at Sam. "I felt like I was losing pieces of myself each day, even as I was working my way up through the minivan stage," she admitted, looking at the ceiling and denying the fear again to give everything. "But I chose to do it, and I chose to come work for this man. He wouldn't accept a resignation, and until we leave or I'm fired, I serve at the pleasure of the President. Giving anything less than the fullest effort and skill and talent would be a crime, and if he gets reelected, it seems like a small price to pay." 

"Amen," the three of them murmured quietly, almost in concert.

"So that's it?" Toby asked.

"Yes, Toby, that's it, except for the remaining six weeks I'll resemble a large truck," she said dryly, bringing her gaze down from the ceiling.

"You're still pissed at me," he said suddenly, with uncharacteristic openness.

"Yeah." 

"Okay." He paused. "Who's flying to Ohio with you?"

"I'll go on my own," CJ said, just as Sam volunteered. "Sam, you have to stay and make sure Toby here doesn't get out of control or anything. I'll go with Josh." 

"Are you sure?" Josh asked.

"Yeah." She sighed. "Why am I going, again?"

"To see your father," Sam prompted. CJ sighed again, and pulled her blanket around her.

"Yeah." She closed her eyes. 

When Leo stopped by over half an hour later, he opened the door to find the four of them sleeping, CJ with her feet up on Josh's lap and Sam and Toby pulled up to the couch in the visitors' chairs, holding CJ's hands. He smiled and backed out, then told their respective assistants to hold their calls for a while. It would be very nearly the last of any possible quiet time for them.

* * *

Sam turned a corner and spotted the object of his search. 

"CJ!" She turned just a little, then resumed walking again.

"What is it, Sam?"

"I have a thing," he revealed.

"That's nothing new," she retorted. "My office?" He had a sort of righteous flush about him that she knew spelled trouble.

"Sure." He waited until the door was closed. "CJ, you've got to come out now."

Her eyes widened before she tossed the file she was carrying onto her desk. "No, no, and no again. We've already been over this."

"I know," Sam confessed, eyes filled with regret.

"Several times," CJ emphasized, raising her eyebrows. "In fact, as I recall, I convinced you, and you agreed you were on my side. Why are we talking about this?" 

"CJ, you could be dead inside of six weeks."

It hung in the air, the atmosphere suddenly chilled with horror. CJ's lips parted a little, and Sam looked down uncomfortably for a moment. 

"How would my coming out with the risk factor change that, Sam?" she finally inquired sharply. "How does that change anything except blow the lid off a strategy we're barely holding onto?"

"We crafted it before we knew!" 

"That's right, and most of 'us' still don't know, Sam, and there's a reason for that."

"It's not right," he said with boiling protectiveness.

"We're not getting into whether it's right," CJ told him.

"CJ, if you're looking at strategy, this could illuminate the whole issue." 

"You're right, Sam. You're absolutely right," CJ conceded with heat. He didn't alter expression or stance in the least, knowing from experience this was a prelude to a substantial retort. "It would shed a light on the issue of why women must have the choice in a fashion that cannot be shut down. It would shed too much light on it, and that's why it can't be part of it, aside from the fact that it's really too late to implement anything anyway."

"How can you know that?" he whispered, struck by the unbearable weight of awareness in the eyes of his colleague and friend.

"It's my job!" she fired back, standing even straighter. Sam swallowed and looked away briefly.

"People are going to know anyway," he reminded at last.

"After the fact, Sam. And there is no reason, absolutely no reason, why anyone needs to know that I knew there was a risk factor. There aren't going to be accusations of my irresponsibly continuing a pregnancy when I knew I could leave the children of it without any real parents. There aren't going to be accusations of keeping it for some ulterior motive. _I had the choice._ And I know what I'm doing."

"What if it doesn't work that way?" he asked softly.

"Then it'll become an issue all by itself, without any need for the White House to contribute in any fashion. It might take a while to make its way through the public consciousness, but it will do exactly that in time."

"Too high a price," Sam murmured, caught against CJ's relentless, unwavering determination yet again. 

Her shadowed eyes locked on his, and he saw her eyes whisper back _I know_ for just a moment, before they were shuttered behind protective duty.

* * *

"Josh!" CJ howled down the hallway with no regard for anyone's ears.

He popped out of his office. "What?"

"Come here!"

"What for? What'd I do?"

"Because I told you to, Josh!" It's possible there were a few snickers in the bullpen at this.

He came down the hallway to CJ's office and stopped in front of her. "Yes, ma'am?" he inquired sweetly.

"Josh, what time is it?"

"Morning or something, I think." 

"Josh, I have a flight. You have a seat on it, as I recall." CJ would have put her hand on her hip, but she had realized weeks ago that she was just too big for it to be effective for the time being.

"Um, yeah. It's not until later, right?"

"Much later, unfortunately." CJ lowered her voice. "Josh, what's going on? We moved it back when you found out Leo's testimony was today..."

"Nothing." 

"Josh, it's not nothing. Donna's been on the phone all morning."

"CJ, if you don't know, then it's not an issue in the room," he whispered. "And if I told you, I'd be breaking a confidence. I can't tell you. It's nothing, CJ." 

She looked unsatisfied, but nodded, aware Josh was probably right. "Leo will be fine," she told him.

"I'm doing everything in my power to guarantee just that," he said, turning back toward his office.

"Josh... we really do have to make this flight, okay?"

"He'll be done by then," he assured her.

"Yeah, right. When has that ever happened?" she demanded, rolling her eyes.

"CJ, I'll be leaving with you and we will make this flight. You packed?" 

"Are you?"

He jerked a thumb back toward his office. "I'm going back there."

"Let me know if something changes with the flight, all right?"

"Sure."

* * *

"Hi, Claudia," Albert greeted her as he stepped out of the car. "I'm so sorry--Dad was rambling again." He stepped forward cautiously and wrapped her in a hug.

"It's so good to see you, Al. Have you met Josh?" She turned to her traveling companion.

"No. It's a pleasure. Albert Cregg."

"Yeah. Josh Lyman." Josh leaned forward to shake the other man's hand.

"Ah. Donna's boss," he smiled. Josh shot an inquiring glance at CJ.

"He met Donna when he visited me a few months ago," she told him, declining to elaborate how the two had encountered each other.

"Got everything?" Al checked. They got into the car, CJ squeezing herself in carefully.

"I don't think I fit." There was silence for a few minutes, and then CJ turned to Josh. "He just put them in recess?"

"Yeah. He apparently did."

"Why? We were all anticipating Leo being grilled for... well, with no regard to breaks, that's for sure." 

"Maybe he wanted to go somewhere for Christmas," Josh suggested, shooting a look at her. She caught the light in his eyes as they passed a street light, and shook her head.

"Is Jeff there?" she asked her brother.

"Um, no. He... had another commitment."

"I'm so glad to know that the ability to spin something isn't inherited, because that's a pretty lame excuse," CJ said with forced lightness.

"It's partly that he doesn't like to see Dad this way," Albert said hesitantly.

"Is he sick?" Josh asked. Brother and sister exchanged a glance via the rearview mirror.

"He forgets things," CJ said finally. "And that's no excuse," she directed at her brother.

"Oh." Josh seemed to be at a loss, and the rest of the ride was quiet, until CJ turned to Josh as they pulled in.

"Did Leo get home okay?" 

"He was going to come back to the office for something. The President will take care of him," Josh assured her. 

"Okay." CJ opened her door, and her father came down the house steps, inconsiderate of the cold weather.

"Claudia Jean," he said, hugging her. CJ held herself carefully, seeing her brother tense out of the corner of her eye. This was her father, after all...

"Hi, dad," she said as he released her. He studied her with a somewhat vague look, and she winced in anticipation, shooting a glance at Albert.

"You're pregnant, darling... that's wonderful. Why didn't you tell me? Who's the father, hmm?" he queried with a cheerful expression. CJ shot a look at Josh, who was standing with unusual patience by the trunk. "Forgive me. Who's this wonderful young man with you?" 

"Josh Lyman, sir," Josh said, stepping forward to shake his hand.

"Talmidge Cregg. You the father, young man?"

"Ah, no, sir," Josh answered, stepping back to the trunk. CJ could almost hear the rest of the sentence, _but I'd give anything for the honor, sir_... and there was something deep in his expression about his own father, gone so soon...

"Come on in anyway," CJ's father invited cheerfully. "You all look tired and in need of a good meal." They spent a moment figuring out the luggage, but Josh wound up carrying one bag with the other arm around CJ, while her brother got the other two pieces. "Jeff isn't here," Tal informed them mournfully. "It's just me, I think... and Al's been here for a little bit." He opened the door.

CJ worked her way up the steps with Josh. "Are you all right?" he asked her.

She nodded and bit her lip briefly. "Yeah, thanks. I'm just... very pregnant." He chuckled and they went in. CJ looked around. "Dad, where's... you're alone?"

"Yeah. Come on in, come in," he encouraged. They stepped in and CJ unbuttoned her coat, standing there and looking around. It looked so different than it ought to, but she couldn't quite think of what exactly was wrong, except that she'd always thought of her father as an exceptionally organized person. Albert took her coat, looking at her as if to ask what else could be done. "So, you're pregnant... my girl's going to have a baby. Who's the father, CJ?"

"You already asked me that, Dad. And it's twins... twin girls." CJ brushed her hair back and lifted her left foot a little bit to ease the weight on it, feeling Josh step just a bit closer to her.

"Oh, right. Did you tell me?"

"No, Dad." CJ took a few steps further in.

"Oh." There was a pause. "Well? Who is it?" CJ turned her head aside, facing Josh's shoulder. He turned and shot a somewhat desperate look at Albert.

"Dad, they're both pretty tired... it's practically midnight. Why don't we talk tomorrow?"

"Sure," he agreed amiably after a moment. "Everything's ready in your rooms." 

"Thanks, Dad." CJ smiled at him, and gave him a hug as they clattered into another hallway.

"Goodnight, Claudia."

"Night, Dad."

"Sorry," her brother murmured, as the three were standing in her room.

"For what?"

"He asked you twice who the dad was..." Albert trailed off as CJ buried her face in Josh's shoulder for a moment.

"It's okay," she said once she'd lifted her head. "I just... God, I couldn't tell him, Al. I just... couldn't. Especially since I didn't even know if he'd remember... and I'd have to tell him again, and again, and again."

Josh stood still for once, just supporting her. "I'll take care of it tomorrow morning," Al finally said. "We've got some other rooms and stuff," he told Josh.

CJ stepped forward the slightest bit and stretched her hands out. The two of them wrapped each other in a strong hug, a little sideways for the sake of CJ's large stomach.

"CJ, are you...?" Josh queried. She shook her head at him, and he shrugged out of his coat and jacket. "I'll, uh, I'll be fine in here."

"CJ?" her brother inquired, pulling back to eye her. "What are you-?" 

"It's something we do," she sighed. "It helps keep the nightmares away, as long as they're careful. It's been Josh, Sam, Toby, Donna..."

"Don't tell me the President's on this list," he gaped, eyes wide. He knew what such a happening would look like.

"No, but the First Lady and Zoey are," she informed him, trying not to smirk. The whole matter really wasn't that funny at all, but his expression was. 

"Um, okay, I'm not sure I wanted to know this. Do you need extra blankets or anything?" CJ looked over the room and shook her head with a smile. "Good night, CJ," he said, hugging her again.

"Good night, big brother," she replied, tilting her head and smiling a little bit. He refused to take the bait and promptly escaped to his own room.

* * *

"... and that's what happened, Dad." Albert finished and sat back a little bit, watching his father anxiously. 

"I see." Tal Cregg nodded slowly. "Oh, my little girl... dear God." He rubbed his nose in a manner almost identical to CJ's, and looked at Josh. "You work together." 

"Yes, sir."

"Take care of her." 

"I won't let anything happen to her, Mr. Cregg." The older man nodded and stood, shaking hands with Josh. They heard CJ's footsteps, still light for all that she complained about weighing a ton, and turned to face her.

"Good morning. You let me sleep late," she accused lightly.

"Merry Christmas, Claudia Jean," her father said, burying his feelings about what he had just been told to step forward and hug her. 

"Merry Christmas, Dad," she answered, kissing his cheek.

"Merry Christmas, CJ," her brother said, claiming her for a hug as soon as her father let go.

"Merry Christmas, big brother," she told him, smiling, then turned to Josh. "Good morning."

"Morning, CJ." 

"Breakfast?" her father inquired.

"Sounds lovely." She looked at Josh with a raised eyebrow, but he just smiled casually.

* * *

"Oh, hell..." CJ trailed off, and started to count.

Immediately she was swarmed by her fellow senior staffers, plus Donna, who was dragged along by Josh. "CJ?" 

"Shh. I'm counting." She closed her eyes.

"CJ?" Sam demanded, coming forward and reaching for her wrist and stomach at the same time. "Is it-?"

"Shut up." There was a long pause as CJ continued counting, while the four of them waited, staring at her. Leo joined them, looking from one to the other, and the intense concentration on the face of the Press Secretary.

"CJ, are you-?"

"I'm fine." CJ opened her eyes.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It was just a twinge."

"Okay." Josh looked skeptical.

"CJ, do you want to sit down for a minute, in case-?" Sam queried. Toby didn't say anything, just hovered with a concerned look, shifting back and forth on his feet.

"I'm okay."

"She says she's okay, you guys, sheesh," Donna interjected, tugging on Josh's arm. "Come on." 

"What? Where?" Josh asked in confusion.

"Dance, dummy. Unless there's someone else you want to dance with?" 

"Um, no." He went away, holding Donna's hand. 

Toby and CJ exchanged a look. It was utterly wordless, and there was still anger underneath it, but Toby finally turned around with a very small smile. "I'm going to find Andrea." 

"Okay." Leo turned back to CJ.

"Don't ask," she pleaded in exasperation.

"I wasn't going to. Unlike these guys, I'm a father. I remember Jenny having false alarms." He smiled a bit. "Would you care to dance?" 

"Who am I going to dance with?" Sam inquired before CJ could form a reply.

"Not that you should be dancing with CJ that much, Sam, but we're trading dates." Leo pulled a young woman up to them.

"Mallory."

"Hey, Mal," CJ greeted with a smile, shooting a glance at Sam, who seemed to have lost all power of speech.

"Hey, CJ. Nice dress... you look good." Mal smiled back.

"Thank you." CJ turned her smile on Leo. "And yes, thank you." He offered her his arm, despite their vastly different heights. 

"Just finish your argument by midnight," he called over his shoulder.

"You're doing this so I can argue with Mallory?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Leo nodded. "Deal with it, have fun, keep it decent. I'll be back." He wandered onto the dance floor with CJ.

Sam watched CJ's ivory dress meld into the crowd, and turned back to Mallory. "Are we arguing about anything in particular?" he asked. "Because I seem to remember a really good one about school vouchers, and then about your boyfriend..."

"We broke up," Mal advised him. "And I wanted to come to the New Year's party at the White House and my dad works here--have you met him? I understand he's very influential."

"Ouch. Can I get you a drink?"

"I have a drink, but if you need something, go ahead. I'll be right here."

Sam was turning away to get some wine, but turned back. "Why don't we argue and dance at the same time?"

"You'll step on my toes," she accused.

"I will not."

"Promise?" Mallory lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Yes. At least not deliberately." He took her arm promptly.

"Big loophole there, Mr. Lawyer Man," she retorted, but not trying to pull away.

"Yes, so it is." Sam was trying not to smile broadly.

"You look very happy, Sam." She took his hand.

"This is going to sound silly, but I've missed arguing with you. Not that there aren't other people I can argue with, and I've lost arguments to Ainsley Hayes, but it's not quite as much fun."

"Fun?" she queried, in the same voice she had used to ask him if he was a moron.

"Yes. So what shall we argue about?"

"Why you find it fun," she replied.

A couple of hours later, the President looked around the large room with Abbey on his arm. "Have you seen her?" he asked.

"Not recently. I think she's sitting down. We could ask Sam."

"Sam's still arguing with Mallory," he replied dryly.

"Good for them."

"It's past quarter to midnight. Leo's going to break them up soon."

"Good luck to him," Abbey answered. "Oh, Josh!" she exclaimed, as the staffer came toward them, Donna on his arm. "Have you seen CJ?" 

"She sat down," Donna replied, giving her boss a poke. "Over there, Dr. Bartlet."

"Thank you, Donna." The First Lady smiled warmly. "Josh, have you been drinking?"

"No, ma'am. I mean, yes, but just one glass," he answered, smiling at Donna. The First Couple chuckled.

"Go dance, you two," the President advised. The couples turned away from each other.

"It's almost time for the dance, sir," Charlie reminded, coming up behind them.

"Thank you, Charlie," came the absent reply, as his eyes continued searching.

"Thank you, Charlie," Abbey echoed with more attention. "Have you seen Zoey?"

"Not recently, ma'am. I think she may have left."

"She's still here. She doesn't have a date," the First Lady told him. Charlie's expression changed just a bit, and he smoothed down his tux.

"Thank you, ma'am." He turned and left in search of Zoey. Abbey smiled after him.

"What'd you go and do that for?" her husband griped.

"Jed, they're cute together, and they won't get into trouble. Stop fussing. And focus."

"I should be fussing; she's just a little girl. Ah, there she is." He picked up his pace and soon stood in front of CJ. She was sitting, her head drooping a little, hands clasped over her belly.

"CJ?" Abbey inquired. CJ looked up and immediately stood.

"Mr. President. Dr. Bartlet. I'm sorry. I was just resting my feet."

"That's quite all right, CJ," the President replied for both of them. He let go of his wife's hand. "Would you like to dance?" He stretched his hand out toward her.

"Ma'am?" CJ asked, turning toward the First Lady. The President sat out this dance or did it with his wife; that was the way it was.

"Yes, CJ," the First Lady nodded at her, then smiled. "We're good. Actually, we planned this."

"Thank you, ma'am." CJ turned back to the President and stepped forward. "Thank you, sir. I'd be honored."

"No, CJ, I'd be honored," he said, taking her hand. Leo appeared at that moment.

"Sir?"

"Dance with me, Leo, won't you?" Abbey requested swiftly.

"But it's 11:54-"

"Yes, it is. Dance with me?"

"Of course," he said, casting a puzzled glance at the departing President and Press Secretary.

"It's unusual," she agreed, looking as well. "But I was the one who brought it up, Leo." She tucked her hand more firmly under his arm and stood, watching. The dance floor was clear, and a puzzled silence ran around the room as the President walked out with a woman taller than he was instead of the slightest bit shorter; a woman young enough to be his daughter, and turned to her. Mallory poked Sam, who turned and looked, and Toby stopped talking to Andrea when he saw her looking well past his shoulder. Zoey and Charlie noticed the puzzled silence and looked in awe, and Josh put a finger to Donna's lips to stop her flow of words on some trivia.

The President took one step back from CJ and bowed deeply. Her lips parted in surprise, and she stared at him, waiting, her expression registering both delight and confusion. When he came upright again, he looked up at her with a strong, warm smile, gentler than the one he used at public appearances, and took her hand with one of his, then placed the other on her side. CJ finally smiled, and they moved with slow delicacy around the floor. Voices started murmuring the countdown. "20... 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10..."

CJ took a breath. "Thank you, Mr. President," she said softly.

"It seemed like the right thing to do," he told her, looking up with a wordless flicker of his eyes.

"9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1." The music changed, and more couples came onto the floor, smiling at the President and CJ.

"Happy New Year, CJ," he said, like a blessing. "May it be more joyful than last year."

* * *

"Are you inside?" CJ asked Toby a few days later. There was something buzzing around the building, and she didn't want to get surprised by it. She had the State of the Union prep and the speech itself to get through before she went on leave, and really wanted the next three and a half weeks to go smoothly. 

"No. Josh is."

"Okay. Do you know what it is?"

"I know it has to do with the investigation."

"Toby..."

"CJ, what do you want from me? That's all I know. They'll tell us when they tell us."

"If they tell us at all, and I'd like to hear it here before I hear it in my press room."

"Hear what in your press room?" Sam asked. "And I think the reporters would object to you calling it yours."

"Did your laptop move in here, Sam?" Toby demanded.

"I'm stretching my legs."

"I'm asking Toby what's going on."

"Oh. Yeah. Josh is on the inside."

"I got that. And it is my press room."

"Okay, but if a reporter claims otherwise, you're on your own."

"Will both of you get out of here?" Toby said, waving a pen. "CJ, if you're that curious, go ask Josh, and Sam, start writing." 

"I have started writing!"

"Well, finish, then, so we aren't polishing the State of the Union at 8:59 pm on January 29th!"

"I'm going," the two said, and exited, CJ shooting Toby an eloquent glower as she left.

* * *

"Hey, there." CJ leaned on Josh's office door and watched him think.

"Hey, CJ," he answered, turning his chair this way and that.

"What's going on?" 

"Nothing."

"Josh, every time you tell me that, it turns out to be a great big something, so what's going on?"

"It does not." He stopped his chair and sat up. "Once it really was nothing."

"Yeah, on our part. What's going on?"

"CJ..." He ran his hands through his hair. "I can't tell you. I don't think it's going to be a thing."

"Since when are you the best judge of that?" she retorted.

"With this I am! I just stay away from the press room."

"Okay," she sighed, coming in and sitting down. "What is it?" 

"We're trying to get it settled by Monday; if we do, it won't be a thing."

"Josh, can you give me some hint what to look for, so I'll know it if I see it?"

He looked at her directly for the first time since she knocked on his door, and the intense look in his eyes told her even before he said anything. Not even the President inspired this. "Leo," he told her. She nodded and sat back, suspicions forming.

"I'll let you know if I hear anything, all right?" She stood up. 

"Thanks. I'd appreciate it."

"Thanks, Josh." And she was out the door.

* * *

"And the President's going to be censured this evening." Leo stopped and looked around. Only one staffer wasn't gaping at him. "CJ, what are you doing?"

"Oh." CJ looked up with a guilty expression. "I was-nothing. Nothing." 

"The President's about to be censured," Leo said again. Her jaw dropped.

"Please don't say it too much," muttered Sam, staring at his legal pad.

"What were you doing?" Josh asked of CJ.

"Nothing. It was nothing." She tucked a piece of paper into the back of her briefing book and looked up again. "The White House can't comment on a censure that doesn't exist yet," she told Leo. 

"Good. And keep your head here, will you?" 

"Sorry."

"That's it for now. Try not to cause the end of the world until after lunch, all right?" Leo shooed them out of his office. "CJ?" She turned back and stood in front of his desk, and he could see her blushing a deep red. "What was that about?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry, Leo. It won't happen again."

"Okay. We need you at the top of your game, not with your head in the clouds," he admonished her.

"I wasn't, I was-it was nothing. I've got the press covered." He looked at her.

"CJ, is there something you're not telling me?" Her hand brushed nervously down her very rounded stomach. "CJ, I'm your first phone call."

"It was nothing, Leo. Really." She mustered a smile. "And you've been more than a first phone call. Thank you."

Leo eyed her with worry, but in the face of three or four denials of anything being wrong, there wasn't a great deal he could do. "All right. Handle the press; I'll see you later."

Her smile became one of relief. "Thank you, Leo," she replied, and hastily departed before he could change his mind.


	17. Tempting Fate

I'd appreciate feedback muchly on this, as it's... well... the thing. Flames and death threats, not so much. Yes, I know this would never happen, but if we can all believe a liberal academic governor from New England can get elected President, then surely things like this can happen too.

_Tempting Fate_

"What are we doing here?"

"State of the Union prep, Sam." Toby barely glanced up from his writing. "If you could possibly focus, then we might get out of here sometime today. I don't even remember what my apartment looks like." 

"Why are we all here?" Josh waved around the room. 

"Because we're the President's senior staff, Josh," Leo replied, finally looking up from his paperwork to survey the four of them. "We've got to get this done beforehand for two reasons: one being that it rarely pays off to leave the State of the Union until the last possible minute, and the second is that CJ is three weeks from her due date, and I've discovered that babies rarely care about when they're supposed to come; they come when they want to come. So, we're going to work today and we're going to get ready for this, and we're going to go home by 4 or 5 pm."

"Tempting fate, Leo," Toby complained, still writing.

"I hope that's not in the speech, Toby."

"No. But we are." 

"You guys know what you're doing. Why are you still in my office?"

"Leaving now." CJ stood up to lead the exodus.

"We're in the Oval at 2 pm, you guys; don't forget!" Leo called after them.

"You look calm," Toby told CJ as they walked down the hallway.

"I don't have to write the State of the Union and there's very little press here today, Toby. Why shouldn't I be calm?"

"I was just saying..."

"Go write, Toby, and try not to kill Sam, okay?" She smiled at him and touched his arm before turning in the direction of her office.

* * *

CJ was taking advantage of the low-profile day to finish up her side project. It was indeed very nearly done; there were a few asides she wanted to add about interactions between government officials and the people, and how they were mediated by the media to an extent never forecast by the founders of the country. George Washington could probably be excused for not anticipating the Internet, after all, but it was there, and keeping up with it was a near-impossible task, but one that needed to be undertaken in order to better fulfill the intent of having the people participate.

An odd twinge rumbled through her stomach, and she rubbed it, glancing at the clock. It was almost 1; she should probably get something more to eat soon so she'd have time before the meeting in the Oval. Just this check... and there was this real work to do, sitting over there. Maybe it'd have to be a fast lunch. "Shhh," she murmured down at the twins, feeling a small fist.

Adjusting her position, she resumed.

* * *

"Crash the West Wing!"

"What is it?"

"Unknown."

"Location of Eagle?"

"He's in the Oval."

"That's not secure; in fact, it's where it's coming from. Get the masks; move everyone nearby to the secure facilities."

"Shut it down, please. We don't know how it got in or what it is." 

"Sir? We need you to move." An agent appeared in the door to the Oval with a mask on, holding a packet of them. There were two other agents behind him.

The President stood up. "What's going on?"

"Sir, put the mask on. Mr. Young, you need to don one as well." The agent stepped up to the two of them. "Is Mr. McGarry in his office?"

The President reached for a mask. "Yes. What's going on?" 

"We're completely crashing the West Wing, sir; an unknown substance. We need to get you downstairs." Charlie put a mask on and pointed to Leo's office; the President nodded.

"Where's Abbey?" he inquired from behind the mask.

"The First Lady's in Michigan, sir," Charlie supplied before opening the second connecting door.

"Hell, Charlie, you could give a guy a heart attack like that!" came Leo's response. 

"Sir, we need to get you and the President secured. If you'll step into the Oval?"

The two reappeared, meeting Bartlet's glower from behind the mask; it didn't cover his eyes, so they had no trouble deciphering his expression.

"What about the rest of my staff?"

"We'll be keeping them where they are, sir, which is hopefully in their offices. Please follow me." Only the implication that he'd be carried out encouraged the President to go out and follow the agents through hallways he'd never seen.

"Will you tell them what's going on?" he demanded partway down a flight of stairs.

"We'll advise them this is a complete crash, sir, and that there's a contaminating agent inside the West Wing."

"Well, that's helpful."

"Mr. President, it's not much less than we know at this point."

"You know one of the senior staffers is due to deliver twins in about three weeks?" Leo asked.

"Yes, Mr. McGarry. We're taking every precaution to make sure no one else is affected." Charlie lifted his eyebrows in that eloquent way he used so often with the President as they were ushered into the secured area. "Captain Fayne will take of you, gentlemen. Thank you."

* * *

"You also need to look at these statistics on farms," Donna finished, handing him a folder.

"Why?" 

"Because farmers are important, Josh."

"Fine." He dropped the file onto the stack and sat down. "I am now surrounded by enough piles of paper to feed an army, assuming that army ate paper. Go find me more."

"You're welcome, Josh." Two agents trotted by as Donna turned around, and Josh frowned a little.

"Mr. Lyman, Ms. Moss, we need you to stay in here, please. We're crashed." An agent started to close the door, talking softly into his mike.

"Wait... what?" Josh protested, standing up again.

"We're crashed, Mr. Lyman."

"Why?"

"Contaminating agent. This is a full lockdown; no calls allowed. You need to stay where you are; please remain calm. An agent will be outside your door at all times. We'll pass any relevant updates on to you." With that, the door shut definitely.

The two sat down in unison. "I think you can start reading now," Donna told him.

"In a full crash? Are you kidding me? It might make the lights go off." Josh eyed said lights skeptically.

"You can read or I can set the topic of discussion."

"I'm reading." Josh reached forward promptly.

"If you need me to summarize it for you, I can still do that. I don't need the index cards," she offered.

"Thank you," he answered, glancing up from the folder with a scrunched forehead. Donna sat back and rolled her eyes.

"Let me know when I can read something," she muttered.

A notebook thumped onto the floor in front of her. It wasn't quite large enough to hold the budget.

* * *

The scene was being repeated with variations around the West Wing, fortunately with less people involved than there would have been on a weekday. In the communications bullpen, Toby saw agents nearly running and stepped out to shoo Ginger and Bonnie out of the open workspace.

"What?" Bonnie looked up at him blankly, hands stuffed in a heavy notebook.

"Something's up. Get into Sam's office," he advised.

"You don't want one of us in your office?" Ginger offered.

"I'll be fine. Go on." Toby smiled, just a very little bit. "I can write better alone."

Bonnie and Ginger picked up what they were doing and ducked into Sam's office just as agents entered the bullpen.

"What're you doing in here?" Sam inquired, looking up from his busily typing fingers.

"Toby told us to get into your office," Bonnie repeated.

"Can we have some of your desk?" Ginger asked. "We're researching."

"Please stay where you are," an agent requested.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, standing.

"Full crash due to a contaminating agent. No calls. One of us will be outside your door." There was a soft click, and the three occupants of the office stared at one another. 

"CJ," Sam said softly. He could feel himself knotting up in dread, growing colder by the second, nearing utter panic. _Oh, God. CJ's here. Oh God oh God oh God oh God. Twins sometimes arrive early. CJ's here. Oh, God._ The two assistants looked at him, but didn't say anything. "Tempting fate," Sam finally muttered, and sat back down, focusing in an almost manic fashion on his laptop.

"Ms. Cregg?" an agent requested seconds earlier. "Please stay where you are." 

CJ looked up in frozen panic as the door started to close. "What? Wait... is this a crash?"

"Yes, ma'am. Full crash; no phone calls. We'll keep you updated."

"Have you noticed I'm pregnant?" CJ inquired sarcastically, fighting against the terror of being stuck in one room, of not being able to move about, of... other things. Of this being a real thing that could go on for hours. "Is this a drill?"

"No, Ms. Cregg, this is not a drill. I'm sorry; this is a full crash involving possible contamination." He closed the door. CJ felt her stomach twist as she sat back down, reached for the phone, and then drew her hand back. If they said no calls, then it was likely they had already been put out of service.

"Well, Gail," she said after a few minutes. "It's just you, me, a White House crash, my little office, and the few electronic devices left. What do you think?" Gail just kept swimming.

CJ couldn't help but think that her stomach was awfully uncomfortable for having relatively little food in it.

* * *

"So what's going on?" the President demanded for the fifth time that hour. Leo and Charlie looked up wearily from where they were seated, and then granted the President's current opponent a brief glance.

"Mr. President, we're going to get that information to you as soon as we have it, but we don't yet have it ourselves. Please be patient." Ron Butterfield was likely to hold up longer than the previous opponents, who had all been military doctors not used to a frustrated President bouncing off the proverbial walls.

"It's been hours!"

"Sir, this is an unknown agent; an agent not in our extensive database. It's going to take some time."

"Fine!" He stood up. "What about my family?"

"Your daughters are all secure, sir, and the First Lady has been alerted and is cutting her trip short. She won't be landing until we've lifted the crash, however."

Bartlet rolled his eyes and sat back down. "Are my other staffers safe?" he asked eventually.

Ron had just been sitting there, giving every impression he intended to wait as long as necessary. "Yes, sir. They're all secure in offices with an agent at the door."

"And CJ?" he specified. Leo and Charlie directed their gazes to the agent.

"She's secure in her office, Mr. President. She's fine, sir."

"And there's an agent at the door?" 

"Yes, sir."

"All right." The President clasped his hands around one knee and looked at Leo and Charlie, tension all restlessly coiled. "Would either of you care for a game of chess, since it seems there's nothing else to do down here?"

* * *

Toby spent the hours writing, sometimes on his laptop but more frequently using a pen and one of his many legal pads. He alternated between his couch and desk, while trying not to look at a clock.

Sam let Bonnie and Ginger usurp most of his desk space, but kept writing on his computer, frequently glancing at an innocous-looking box on one of his shelves.

Josh started bouncing off his office walls after a couple of hours, and Donna was left with the utterly unenviable task of keeping him from opening the door and storming down the hallway. Unusually for him, he had noticed CJ hadn't gone for lunch yet, and he was worried about her. Eventually Donna pushed him into his chair and sat on his lap, and they argued from there, forgetting their own hunger as they started to delve into topics that couldn't possibly be touched in ordinary circumstances.

CJ had discovered the twisting cramps in her stomach weren't cramps when she felt her water break, and was now on the floor, back against her couch, with one of the pillows tucked underneath her. Every contraction, she hoped the agent would open the door and say the lockdown was over, or that someone would appear and tell her this was just a bad joke. Now that she knew what they were, she realized she'd been in labor for hours before the crash was initiated.

And now she was stuck. CJ closed her eyes and knotted her hands into the cushions, watching her breathing carefully.

"Sam's supposed to be here," she said to herself. "And Josh promised he would be, too... oh!" A careful and very approximate check showed the dilation was, well, dilating.

7 o'clock.

Then 2 minutes past. Eternity whispered and snickered, reminding her of her words to Sam, of her unrelenting determination to see this through, no matter the cost. Words became lost against that which was uncaring of the price laid down the last six months.

CJ bit her lip and closed her eyes, fearing and feeling that stretched sensation. Painfully, she got up, world narrowed to her harsh breathing and her goal.

"Well, Gail," she panted, resorting to inanities. "What do you make of this? I wonder who's going to take care of you... will Danny come back? If he doesn't, I think I'll let Carol keep an eye on you." The fish just continued swimming, and CJ waited, swaying, for the next contraction to pass before reaching for the pen and small pad of paper on her desk and writing nine words on it.

_Why couldn't you have held off until after the State of the Union?_ she thought. _Actually, it looks like any day but today would have been good... hey, that hurt!_

Pain. Hands?

No. Not this time.

CJ closed her eyes, although she couldn't have said whether it was against memory or the present.

She didn't want either one to be reality right now.

About ten contractions later, she could feel it start to happen. Doctor Llanewyn had warned her. Slowly, she carefully adjusted herself until she was flat, with one pillow under her head and another under her lower back; gravity and this force of nature were balanced against each other here.

Why was she doing this? From what fate was she struggling to survive?

CJ felt her breathing get rougher, and the feelings of the contractions changed.

_Not yet, please? Can we go back to the other kind?_

Apparently not. She felt her nails dig into the carpet, a silent fight against ragged pain that was all kinds of wrong.

An instant eternity later, the first girl came out. CJ reached painfully, knowing she was reducing her chances, and made sure her little girl could breathe all right.

I'm the first line of defense. Motherhood doesn't change that.

She lifted a slow glance at the door, thinking this would be a good time for the crash to be over; in fact, the last good time, judging by the way the contractions were continuing. 

Past. Trembling and bruising... bruised. It was so hard to breathe right.

Nice ceiling.

It had been a beautiful day; now there's just snow.

Toby's probably rewritten half of the State of the Union address by now; hopefully he's not locked down with Sam.

Donna, it hurts.

We can't do this without you, CJ.

Leo, it's really nothing. But I can't see you because you're too far away and I don't want you to touch me... no. That was before.

Josh, please... but he meant every word of it. He'd be fine.

Sam, I need some advice here.

Just a little advice. But you're going to be great fathers.

By the time the second twin's shoulders came out, she was certain, and checked her daughter's ability to breathe again. To her own amazement, she smiled just a little as her long fingers brushed the two. They had such perfect hands...

CJ closed her eyes and took a full breath, and only then did she feel tears. She could feel the lack of life creeping up on her; the bloodletting that had started over half an hour ago had reached its peak, and she was, at last, helpless before it.

_I don't know what to think. I wonder what's next. The real CJ knows the cost, not only this armored and beautiful shell she's become. Oh, you guys... go on. Go on. Understand, and don't fade. Please._

* * *

"Gentlemen, the crash is lifted; we can proceed back into the West Wing."

"Excellent, Ron; let's go." The President stood up eagerly.

"We're clear, Mr. Lyman; thank you." Josh nudged Donna off his lap and stood up, looking down the hallway, then started jogging down to CJ's office.

"Mr. Ziegler?"

"Yes?"

"The lockdown is done." The same agent opened Sam's door as Toby stood up. 

"We're clear?" Sam asked.

"Yes, sir." Sam rocketed out of his seat without saying a word, waving at Toby as he left the bullpen.

"Ms. Cregg?" The agent took in the scene with a brief, buried horror, then sent three words across to his fellows. "Flamingo is down!"

Josh could see CJ as the door opened, and accelerated. Donna came after him.

Ron Butterfield received the message without a change in expression or manner, but he started walking faster, and the President, Leo, and Charlie all picked up their own pace.

Josh landed in a horrified heap next to CJ as Toby and Sam rounded the corner by CJ's office and Donna skidded to a stop at the door, then automatically reached for the phone on Carol's desk.

"No..." Josh didn't know what he was denying, except that this was surely impossible. He flinched away from the blood--so much of it, and he knew what it was from but he didn't know, and he didn't want to think about it--and the two newborns, and tried to stop shaking long enough to check CJ's pulse.

Toby and Sam collided at the door to the sight of Josh breathing into CJ's mouth. Sam took a hesitant step into the office, feeling as though he might throw up. This was a nightmare scenario, worse than... than... what had they said this morning? Tempting fate?

Toby, in a spectacularly uncharacteristic fashion, nearly flung himself forward and got ready to breathe for CJ as Josh pounded her chest.

Donna got off the phone and touched Sam's arm lightly as she came in, kneeling by the two infants. They both squealed as she checked them, and she didn't know whether to be relieved or furious.

The agent had taken a few more steps back but could still see, and now added "No signs of life," to his earlier report.

Ron Butterfield moved faster.

"Ron?" Leo inquired, trying to keep up.

"Flamingo is down," the lead agent echoed the subordinate. The President and Leo immediately outstripped him, running, and Charlie came after them, but not even his younger body could match this terrible sprint, driven by the love of a family dependent upon each other and by the fear of losing a daughter. Ron gave some instructions as he followed, so there would still be agents covering them as they moved through the West Wing.

Drawn by some extra assistant instinct, Carol, Margaret, Bonnie, and Ginger moved hastily down the hall outside the Roosevelt Room, where the former two had been for the past several hours.

Donna laid her hand over Josh as he started again, and he and Toby both looked at her. She didn't have to say anything; Josh drew his hand back and started feeling for a spot to tear his clothes.

Toby had no such problem; all his strength went into it, as Sam looked on with depthless horror. His suit was ragged by the time he stopped, breathing hard, and looked down. Reverently, he put CJ's head on his lap and bent his own head.

The President and Leo arrived. Their leader stepped into the office and looked down at the scene. They heard him and looked up; Toby's eyes were already red, and Donna's eyes were spilling over. Josh looked like he couldn't decide what to do, as his fingers finally found a secure enough place, or maybe just stopping shaking long enough, for him to make a tear. 

Not a single one tried to stand. There were other traditions at work.

Jed Bartlet wanted to kneel and make sure for himself, but he was rooted to the spot. Next to him, his best friend was having the same problem, his eyes locked on the two small figures who were unaware of what they had all just lost.

The assistants arrived, hovering in Carol's office and trying to peek in. Donna met their eyes and stepped out carefully from her position by the babies, taking Carol a bit aside from the group. "CJ..." 

Carol just put her hands over her face. "Can I go in?" she asked from behind her shield.

"Yeah." Donna took her elbow and squeezed her in, moving between the still motionless Sam and the shocked Leo. As she did so, she noticed a paper on the desk she hadn't seen before, and picked it up. She frowned. "Guys?"

There were a few blinks and deep breaths, but no one responded.

"Guys? This is... CJ's handwriting." They finally looked up, or at least seemed to come in a little from their own worlds. "'Samantha Joan and Abigail Leona Cregg. I love you,'" Donna read, then looked down at the twins.

Sam stirred. Josh stroked CJ's hand briefly, and the President and Leo seemed to come out of their motionless semi-trance to crouch down on either side of Josh.

Bonnie and Margaret passed their sweaters in to Sam. He stared at them as though he had no idea what to do, until Ginger poked him and then pointed. Slowly, he moved forward and knelt, and a minute later the twins were wrapped up in the donated clothes, already baptized by dripping tears.

The medics Donna had called arrived, and there were protests from both sides. Toby stayed exactly where he was the whole time, and the President, as though registering what had happened, knelt to take the spot Josh had vacated when he stood up to argue.

"I promised her father I wouldn't let anything happen to her," he whispered, staring at his hands and thinking that, as melodramatic as it sounded, there should be blood all over them. Donna came up to him and told him they were going to have to move CJ's body soon... and with that, he felt his emotions fold completely, and stepped out of the office with Donna's arm around him, making it only as far as the hallway before he fell to his knees again.

Toby looked up at Sam over the President's head as the latter whispered prayers.

"Did she know?" His tone left no room for anything but a straightforward answer. Sam looked back, as though glad to be relieved of this particular burden. It was typical of Toby to not wait until a so-called better time to ask the question, but Sam was boundlessly grateful for it; he didn't think he could stand to have this bearing down on him any longer, this thing heavier than the duty waiting back in his office in an innocent-looking box, than the duty waiting at CJ's apartment, in a drawer here, over the phone.

"Yes."


	18. The End To This Administration

_The End To This Administration_

It was a cliche, but you could have heard a pin drop in that office, as everyone stilled and focused on Sam.

The pressure of their gazes built, until Sam dropped his eyes to Toby's torn clothing, then abruptly left.

Leo ran his fingers over the two little babies as the paramedics intruded the office space again, presence of the President notwithstanding. Toby reluctantly moved aside, and Leo picked up the second twin. Abigail Leona. He'd wonder what had possessed CJ to pick the names, but he really knew: it was a message and reminder in one. Or two.

Carol matched his gesture, the newborn still wrapped in Bonnie's sweater. Charlie was invisible until he appeared at the President's shoulder. "Sir? We need you to clear the room." His eyes distant, Bartlet stood up, and met Toby's gaze.

"I'm going with her," he said, as if in challenge.

"I'd like to go first, sir," Toby responded, with that quiet, quiet tone that one challenged at one's own peril. The President nodded and slowly stepped out, stopping by the folded-over Josh and clasping his shoulder, then sharing a long gaze with Donna. The statement that he commended Josh's health, mental and physical, to her care was no less potent for being unspoken.

Sam was nowhere to be seen. Leo turned to Margaret, hovering in Carol's office, and said, "Go find Sam, will you?" She nodded and practically ran down the hall, and Leo turned back to Toby. "Are you planning on staying the whole time?" he inquired.

"If necessary." Toby's hands roamed across the tatters in his suit, down to his pants, then hovered over CJ's face.

"I didn't think you were required to give up sleeping and eating," Leo replied.

"I need to be there when they... they prepare her," Toby said, that quiet statement the first admittance of anything Toby himself needed in this.

"Someone's got to take these two to the hospital anyway to get them weighed and whatever," Leo reasoned. "I'll go first." Toby's brow knotted a bit. "Toby, she was my responsibility." Rare tears prickled his eyes, as he reflected that many more people would say that before another day had passed, and Toby nodded, finally stepping out of the office. Leo nudged Carol out, too, not wanting to watch the paramedics work, and stopped by Josh and Donna. "Take him home, will you?" he requested of the young woman. Josh lifted his head and started to shake it, just as Charlie performed his reappearing act.

"The President said you're all welcome to stay in the Residence tonight," he informed them, and took one last glance inside the Press Secretary's office before vanishing back down the hall.

Leo nodded at Donna. "We'll let you know," he said, and Josh drooped back down.

"Excuse me," Toby said, and went down the hall on some unknown mission.

_Zip._ Leo flinched.

They slowly headed down the halls, reaching the lobby without running into anyone else. He could see the lights flashing through the glass, and started to turn.

"Leo." Sam had come up silently, his step dampened by grief. He held some envelopes in his hands. "Margaret came by."

"Yeah. You okay?" Sam's response was a bitter smile.

"I've had months for this, Leo." He looked down at the things in his hands. "I've got to come along. For... legal stuff."

Leo looked down at the envelopes too. "Okay. Then you're coming back here and taking a nap in the Residence."

The younger man nodded. "Are we-um, you know-"

"We're taking turns. Toby's next." The Jewish tradition was as good a way as any for them to each do what they felt they needed to do.

Sam nodded slowly, then turned. "Carol, I am so, so sorry," he whispered. She looked up and shook her head.

"I'm glad I didn't know." Her gaze shifted to the opening doors, and she turned abruptly for the exit. Sam and Leo heard the wheels, and promptly turned to follow her, exiting to the strobing lights of the ambulance, grateful to get into the vehicle behind it and have the lights dampened a little, and to not have to see what had come through the doors.

* * *

"Mother's name?"

Sam looked up from his study of the two. "Claudia Jean Cregg."

"Okay. J, e...?" she requested.

"J, e, a, n," Sam supplied, one forefinger rubbing the across his namesake's forehead. "And the last name is C, r, e, g, g."

"All right. Father's name?"

"There's no father." Sam had gotten off an absolutely agonizing phone conversation with Albert Cregg less than ten minutes ago.

He wanted this over with.

"You're not the father?" He supposed he looked upset enough to be father and widower.

"I'm a colleague and friend. And I'm the only one listed as next of kin who can do this right now. There's no father."

She looked at him with an indecipherable expression. "What are their names?" 

"The first twin is Samantha Joan." He waited while she filled out the box and lifted the next certificate. "And Abigail Leona."

"Thank you. I just have a few more questions." Sam thought of Leo and Carol, sitting upstairs with CJ's body, and slowly nodded. Fortunately they'd managed to arrange that without shouting breaking out; that wouldn't have been good for anyone. The press would-- and he stopped and grimaced. Someone would have to brief eventually, but probably not until tomorrow.

He'd been asked another question, he realized, turning back to the nurse with an apologetic smile.

* * *

Leo sent Carol back to the White House after about half an hour, admonishing her to go right to the Residence; the loss was setting in as something real, and she needed to be around other people. Hopefully she'd run into Sam and they could go back together. 

Now alone, he shifted in his chair, still facing the bed. So, so still, and yet he could see why Toby had wanted to do this. It wasn't unheard of in the Christian traditions; it just didn't happen very much.

It certainly left time to think.

He remembered what the President had said to CJ when she came back. It was true; take away any one of the senior staffers, and there was a gap that left you shuddering and cold. And without someone essential. 

Leo couldn't help but wonder if this was the end to any reelection hopes. Without CJ's skill, they might have been quashed in the media months ago. Hell, he wasn't even sure they could make it another year.

Good God, he wanted a drink.

After several minutes, he finally moved to sit on the other side, facing the door. His memory brought up the sight of Toby's torn clothes, and Leo felt like rending his own garments. Why hadn't CJ told them? Why hadn't she changed her mind after she found out there might be a problem? Sam had said it'd been months; how long had CJ been walking around knowing that her decision had put her in dire peril?

Dozens of thoughts jammed together in his head. Finally, he leaned forward and put a hand on the bed.

"I wish you'd told us, CJ. I wish you were really here, to tell us what to do now." With that, he folded his hands together and bent his head.

* * *

Many hours later, Sam and the President faced each other; the younger man sat silently, waiting for his leader, who had all but demanded this time, to speak.

Fifteen minutes ago they'd come in and sent Josh and Donna back to the Residence. Josh had been shaky, but better than before he went; Sam wondered if the tradition soothed him, or if he and Donna had talked at all. Josh had looked him in the face hesitantly, and Sam had returned the look with greater hesitance, expecting anger through the grief; instead, Josh had nodded slowly at him before leaving.

Josh was quenched for the moment, but not destructively so, and Sam contented himself with the knowledge that Toby, too, had been more sane in appearance after returning. He'd changed his clothes and begun writing. Sam didn't have to ask what.

Leo was Leo. Despite his pained aspect when he came back from this room, Sam was confident he'd be able to do this.

No, right now he was worried about himself, and the man sitting across from him.

The man who was, not incidentally, President of the United States, and likely, more than any of them and perhaps with a greater claim, would shift much of the self-blame currently circulating onto his own shoulders. Yet Sam wouldn't know if that was true or just an idea until the President spoke.

"Sam."

He lifted his head. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm sorry. I've been thinking. I did ask you to come with me for a reason, though."

"Yes, sir." 

"When did CJ tell you?"

"Sometime in September, sir."

"When she found out she had twins, she also found out about this?" The President's tone and gaze were sharp.

"Yes, sir."

He sat back. "Why did she tell you?"

"She didn't even want to tell me, Mr. President; the only reason I knew was because she asked me for advice on wills and with regard to some custody issues. I recommended some discreet lawyers to her."

"Wills and custody?"

"Yes, sir."

"So she wanted everything taken care of."

Sam just dipped his head in a small nod.

"Why didn't she... it was barely the second trimester, for God's sake... anyone with any intelligence at all would have understood!"

He very nearly squirmed in his seat. He dreaded the question, he dreaded his own answer, he dreaded the response to his answer. "It would have cost the political career of at least two of the senior staffers, sir. It also would have cost you reelection."

The President's gaze was practically fire. Sam flinched, but met it. He'd argued relentlessly with CJ, but in the end had agreed with her; he could stand by this point without reservations now.

"CJ set her own life as being worth less than my reelection and two political careers?" Sam's gaze was eloquent. "She didn't stop to think this might cost me reelection?" He indicated the room with a hand.

"Mr. President, please believe me when I say that CJ was at the top of her game the last five months, and that she considered every single outcome, including this one. If CJ dying costs you reelection, sir, it won't be because we didn't have a strategy laid out from here through November, including press." 

"It won't be hers." The President laid his hands on the bed. "It won't be CJ's, Sam; we needed that, and it would have been close. I couldn't even remember your names when you were brought on board, and now you're family. There's a gap in my administration, Sam; a gap that can't possibly be filled by anyone else."

"About CJ, sir..." Sam paused. He'd nearly burst an artery when CJ had told him, but at the same time, it had gone perfectly with her attitude about it. "She had a poll done. Quietly," he added, as the President jerked in surprise. "Given your announcement of having MS and not revealing it during the last election, a rather substantial majority of those polled were likely to think that CJ would have been covering something up by failing to bring the pregnancy to term, and the results would have crippled us."

"She polled?" 

"Yes, sir."

"CJ, CJ..." the President shook his head. "I really can't do it without her." 

"You don't have to, sir."

Sam waited, eyes on his clasped hands, as the last statement registered with the President.

"I don't have to?"

"No, sir."

"Sam, did I miss something?"

"Not exactly, Mr. President." Sam fumbled around for the bag he'd brought in with him. "Do you remember when Leo told us to get in the game, and not to be frightened by issues? That we were going to run into walls if we were going to walk into them?"

"During the thing with the FEC, yeah. He said you'd all walk into fire if I told you to do it." Bartlet met the younger man's gaze.

"CJ got in the game."

"She walked into fire," his leader said, almost in a corrective fashion.

"Yes, sir; it's what she signed up for. What we all did."

"She still believed in me?"

"Find out for yourself, sir." Sam pulled out a tape player and a cassette. "She wasn't frightened by issues. She trusted that you'll raise them, and that you'll do the right thing if reelected, because that's what you do." Sam plugged the machine in and popped the tape in.

The President could only stare at the player for what seemed like a long time before he nodded for Sam to let it play.

_'Hello, Mr. President.'_ They could hear her stop and clear her throat, this incredibly poised woman becoming shy and awkward in the face of the kind of responsibility they could only imagine. _'This isn't easy, sir. In the unlikely event that Sam wasn't able to tell you that I was aware of this possibility, yes, sir, I was. I've been working on reelection strategy and what comes next; you'll know where to find them. I'm just introducing it now; and I wanted to say, sir, that serving at the pleasure of this President has truly been a pleasure. I know that may sound corny, sir'_, and she laughed a bit, _'but it's true. I wouldn't have given it up for anything, and I don't want you to give it up either, sir, even though you may want to right now. I know I didn't think of everything, but hopefully it's enough to give you a good chance in November, and I realize that it may seem bizarre, at the least, to let a political outcome be such a strong influence. But we've all had the chance to do something amazing, sir, and you deserve another four years; this country deserves it.'_

The recording fell silent, and Sam placed a finger on the button. "There's more, sir, but it's for your ears only." 

The President had been staring at the cassette player; now he shifted his gaze to CJ's still face. "I'll listen to it later," he whispered, voice barely held in check from the emotions that wanted desperately to come storming out of it.

"Yes, sir." Sam took it out and slipped it into a case, handing it across to the President.

"Are there more?"

"One per person, sir; about a dozen in all, I think," Sam answered quietly. Bartlet slowly nodded.

"These women," he said softly. Nine months ago it had been Mrs. Landingham telling him to run, and now it was CJ... not even death could bar his staff's loyalty and belief in him as a leader.

They simply sat for a long time, the President frequently rubbing his hands over his face. Sam knew it wasn't because he was tired, and maintained a tactful silence. He hadn't listened to his own tape yet, and knew his reaction was likely to be stronger than the President's.

"You'll make a great President, Sam," Bartlet declared out of nowhere. Sam looked at him in surprise. "But when you run and when you assemble your staff, admit to yourself when they become like a best friend, or niece or nephew, or son or daughter."

* * *

"She wants what?" Josh dropped into a chair. 

"Wanted," Toby corrected.

"She's pretty emphatic in here, Josh." Sam gestured at the relevant section.

"We're not father material."

"CJ thought we were. You going to let her down, Josh?" Toby rubbed his hands a bit and leveled a challenging stare at him.

"No. No, I mean, of course not. It's just... I have no idea what to do." 

"We'll be learning together, Josh," Sam pointed out. "Leo and the President are their grandfathers; I'm sure they'll be able to give us some advice. And the First Lady will be, too."

"Yes, Sam, in all of our spare time..." Toby sat back.

"I thought you were on board with this." 

"I am on board with it, Sam! CJ even asked us. Right here in this room, she asked us."

"I don't know what we did to deserve this level of trust," Josh said softly. 

"We were here," Sam observed.

Donna knocked on the door. "Guys? It's time to go over."

"Now?" Josh inquired desperately. "There's no place to-"

"The First Lady said they could stay in the Residence for a while, as long as one of us was there to play parent," Donna calmed him. 

"Us?" Toby asked.

"If you'd read this..." Sam sighed. He couldn't bear to get too frustrated over this. "Donna and Carol are the aunts. If something happens to all three of us, Donna and Carol are next in line."

To everyone's surprise, Josh actually smiled with a bit of dimple, and hugged Donna. "Okay, Aunt Donna, let's go."

"You're far too happy about this," Toby half-growled as they filed out of the office, meeting Carol in the bullpen.

Josh's only response was to point to the torn fabric pinned to one lapel and then to wave at the dark colors they were all wearing.

* * *

Why didn't you tell me the truth this morning, CJ? You left first because you were already in labor. Those times you weren't quite there in staff; you were thinking about this very real possibility. Hell, CJ, you stood back up and you got in the game after the announcement and Haiti and all of us being pissed at you, and you came back to work when any sane person would have understood it if you'd taken a longer break or quit.

The administration caused this. I caused this, CJ; Toby might have flown out to California for you, but I was the one who said 'Let's get CJ Cregg' after I fired Steve, Max, Cal and the other guys. It's my fault you're here; my fault you stumbled and fell after being handed something no one should ever have to deal with. I'm sure someone would tell me you don't blame me, but you should. I brought you on board. You came to lead... and the leading killed you.

I've never torn my clothes on purpose before today, CJ. You're so still and so elegant. I wish I'd said something to you, but you were so pissed at me over Qumar. Tempting fate, CJ; I wasn't thinking of you when I said it, but we tempted fate today, and fate knew it. I'd wonder why you did it, CJ, except that I'm pretty sure I know. You weren't certain you could do this at first, but after you'd made up your mind, nothing could change it.

And I helped you do it. I flew out to California because I already knew you, and I said Jed Bartlet was a good man and you followed me back. I will always wonder, Claudia Jean, if you let yourself be led here because you made up your mind or because you felt the need to prove something. I want Jed Bartlet reelected, CJ, but I didn't want your death hanging over my conscience. I could have done far more than tear my clothes had I been alone.

I'll take care of your girls, CJ. I swear it.

It's the only repayment I can make for causing this in the first place.

My arms still hurt, and I feel my lips twist a little every time I think of crouching by CJ, trying to bring her back. I wanted to be there for her, and that damned lockdown... was it real or another false alarm? If it was false, I think I'm gonna quit. And I just might die if I didn't have Donna sitting here with me. I couldn't bear to have CJ dead over a stupid false alarm. I can't think of anyone who would. But CJ... c'mon, call me a Yankee jackass, will you? Please? I swear I'll do all the hard work and never do anything stupid... okay, yeah, you wouldn't believe that even if you were here.

Why do my sisters keep dying? Why is it always my fault? And why didn't I know? CJ, oh, why, why didn't you tell me. You could have trusted me. Instead I'm sitting here in a hospital room with Donna, watching over you because it's the only way it'll ever seem real, wondering if you were still angry at me.

I've been watching Josh most of the time I've been sitting in here. The lights are a little dim, casting Josh's face into agonized shadows. He's thinking and I don't like what he's thinking.

I can relate, because I'm pretty sure I'm thinking the same thing. I really wish CJ had let me know something was wrong, or said something this morning when she felt the labor start. Something, anything... I feel like I should have noticed.

Josh bows his head more, and I want so badly to go comfort him, but we have hours left here before someone comes to replace us, and it'd be disrespectful to sit here snuggling with each other. Oh, CJ... you know that half the women working in the White House wanted to be you when they grew up, right? One of us will have to be; they can't make it without you, that much I can tell already. 

I could just jump off a cliff right now. The bad kind, with no... well, the bad kind. I knew about this. I knew only a little bit less than CJ herself... and I can see in the looks I've been getting that they're angry about the exclusiveness. Honestly, I really can't blame them, but if they could see how much I condemned myself... I should have fought my way past the guard or called CJ a couple of times that morning or something, anything so I would know I'd done everything I could.

Instead, I'm sitting here with the body of the woman who's become one of my best friends, watching it with the President of the United States and utterly condemning myself. I should have let the bullet hit CJ at Rosslyn, or I should have taken it myself; it would have been so much better than this, except for the two little beautiful children that have been dropped into our lives.

I hope they never know just how much of this is my fault.

I can't do this. I just... I just can't. It's my fault. I'm to blame; I was wrong. Nobody in government takes responsibility for anything anymore. I took responsibility, but it was too late.

CJ took responsibility, and it was too much. Look what happened. God, look what happened! What are you trying to tell me? They were babies, not a car! She handled everything with grace and poise and the determination to do what was right, and look what happened to her!

She took care of us even when she couldn't take care of herself properly. It's my Presidency; my responsibility. I killed CJ, as surely as if I'd wielded a murder weapon myself. Blood on my hands, and two little children I promised to be as grandfather to. Well, now I know why she was asking early in the game.

I killed CJ; me and my damn pride and determination. I look up at Sam, whose eyes are reflecting the same thoughts.

I was worried when one of my agents pulled me out of the center in Grand Rapids; by the time I got the first phone call, I was ready to come at one of them with a shoe. 

It was Jed. His voice was so different that I thought one of the girls had died.

"It's CJ..." he had whispered across the miles, and I wondered if my first guess was still right, as we flew back and landed and rushed to the hospital, as I spoke with CJ's obstetrician, Dr. Llanewyn.

Doctor Llanewyn didn't seem to care that I was being investigated, and gave it to me as one doctor to another. "It could have happened this way even if she'd been in a hospital the whole time she was in labor," she finished regretfully, and turned back to her grim paperwork, refusing to let her tears conquer.

I stood there in the hallway, not daring to go in and oddly terrified. This was what CJ had just hinted at last month, and I found myself wondering if anybody found it odd that the First Lady of the United States was standing in a hospital hallway trying not to cry for a staffer.

Yet CJ was more than just a staff member, and I hope she'll forgive me for thinking politically and wondering just how many men of this White House are going to be paralyzed by self-blame.

It'd be a hell of a way to have the original deal fulfilled, and I don't want it anymore.

* * *

Toby ascended the steps uncomfortably, and looked out at his audience. He was back in the Cathedral, and this pulpit was very high indeed.

He flipped the book open quietly, and glanced down at the pages.

"Psalm 23," he declared without ceremony. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

He closed the book, as many of those seated murmured 'Amen.' A soft rustling announced to the careful listener that he wasn't quite done speaking yet.

"I'm not going to speak very long; that's for--that's for someone else. I don't write words for myself, and this is one of the rare times when I do. I was asked to speak first because with the exception of her brother and father, I'm the person here who knew her the longest. There's little I can say about CJ that won't be said later and better by someone else, except, perhaps, that there were certain things she believed in, and once she decided to believe in something, no force on earth could stop her." His eyes found two baby carriers, attended by various of the assistants. "There is little CJ would have regretted more than for her death to change what we do, or to change our nature." Toby waffled for a moment in front of the microphone, swinging back and forth a little bit, then pivoted and descended the steps.

Josh stood, and made his way up to take Toby's place, with only slightly less discomfort.

"Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:" and here Donna gazed up at him in astonishment; Josh had refused to tell her what he was reading, "a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace." Josh fell silent while he took two deep breaths.

"CJ knew all this, which is why I read it just now. Unfortunately, there's nothing in there about a time for friendships to end, and the reason why is that they don't, not when they're real friendships. I am still CJ's friend, and she is still mine, through all the frustration and anger and conflict. Nothing can change that; there is a time to mourn and build and speak, but friendship isn't bound by those things. It's bound by--I'm sorry, I'm not used to talking like this, but it's bound by something greater, which CJ had a handle on every time she walked into the White House. It's just something extraordinary... um, thank you." Josh coughed and stepped down hastily, having run out of words.

There was a stiff silence, while Sam did not move. Slowly, the President turned around and met his gaze, and the younger man shook his head, just a little bit, looking ashamed. Bartlet nodded and stood up.

"Matthew 5:3-10. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled." Without even being aware of it, he shifted his posture and voice, adapting the rhythm of the ancient words to his own. "Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." They could hear him close the Bible, and glance down at his notes, then aside to the closed casket.

"I speak the Beatitudes today for Claudia Jean Cregg. I speak them for my employee, for my Press Secretary, for the person who told me when I was wrong and the rest of us were wrong. I speak them for a passionate and committed woman who gave up what she was doing four years ago because Toby Ziegler told her I was a good man. I speak them for a colleague, adviser, friend, sister, mother, aunt, niece, daughter. And I am a man of many words, and today I have no words, so it's a good thing that my Communications Director had the foresight to write all this down for me. I have no words, because today I stand up to mourn someone who was more than a trusted adviser and the person who represented my administration. CJ was far more than just the face of this White House; she was an essential part of its heart, a sister, daughter, and friend to each one of us who worked with her.

"Sam was going to speak for the first time about knocking CJ down nearly two years ago outside the Newseum in Rosslyn, Virginia, but I have other things to say about that. Sam saved CJ that day, yet it was CJ who saved the rest of us, time and time again, beyond any reasonable call. They say the average White House staffer is supposed to last 18 months before they burn out, and I remain convinced that it's because these people are more than colleagues that they've lasted three years, and CJ was an essential part of that. She told us when something looked bad and when something would be bad: after Josh Lyman announced my imaginary secret plan to fight inflation, when Sam Seaborn got photographed with a call girl, when Leo McGarry's rehabilitation records were leaked, when I wanted to do something that was really more stupid than I thought it was, and she pulled us back down to the ground in the weeks after Rosslyn, when Toby wanted to hunt down West Virginia White Pride with every resource we had. She told us when we were wrong, and she told us when we were right, and she wasn't afraid to say we'd go up in a poll when everyone else thought we wouldn't." Slowly, Sam, Josh, and Toby started to lift their bent heads, and Leo sat up straighter. One of the twins squalled softly.

"My best friend, who also happens to be my Chief of Staff, once told me that my staff showed up to lead, they showed up to fight. They would walk into fire if I told them to, and he was right. He was absolutely right. CJ Cregg was possessed of that determination, this high-profile, very visible, much-noticed member of my staff, who had strength, guts, and courage in equal and astonishing measure, and who loved what she was doing so much that she got up time and time again, including last summer. I know that Samantha Joan and Abigail Leona will be possessed of those same qualities, and I know that as we watch them grow up, we will fulfill CJ's legacy of determination, doing what is hard, what is right, and giving thanks every day that we had the chance to know this extraordinary woman." He looked down again, not aware until that moment that he had taken hold of the sides of the pulpit as though he were giving a speech. "God bless you, Claudia Jean; may you rest in peace."

The President of the United States descended to utter stillness, as the hushed audience watched him in awe. Sam, Toby, and Josh were watching with wide eyes, mouths open, and Charlie was watching with an awe he hadn't felt since his first months working for the President. Leo stood up as he approached and met him with an inquiring gaze.

Jed just nodded silently, and sat down as the final part of the service took place, murmuring blessings automatically.

He was thinking about what was next.

The last "Amen" whispered its last echoes against the high ceiling, and Abbey touched his arm and moved back to sit next to Ginger, tucking her namesake more firmly in the baby carrier. 

Silently six men and four women stood up. The President and Leo paced back to where their staff had stood, silently rearranging themselves. CJ's brother and father turned around, and Albert nodded a last assent, an arm touching his father's shoulder. He had commended CJ to the care of these men months before.

Two columns of three men came pacing up the aisle, shoes tapping softly. Behind them, four women came two by two. They came abreast with the coffin and wheeled away, coming back up in order, as the women filed silently up beside them, a little further away. Sam and Josh, in front, gazed straight ahead. Leo and Charlie stood behind Josh, the President and Toby behind Sam, a symbolic arrangement even they, who had agreed upon it, didn't fully understand. Bonnie stopped just behind Josh, and Margaret took Leo's back, as she had for so many years and would continue to for years to come. Carol and Donna were on the other side, the dark-haired woman a picture of concentration, while Donna held her head up, willing the tears away.

The men turned to face each other before taking this burden in their hands, and reverently the four assistants placed a supporting hand with it as well. In pale silence, they paced back down the length of the aisle.

For those who could see, the tears on Toby's face said it all.

* * *

Seven days later, Sam stepped into Toby's office. His boss immediately looked up, and did a double take on seeing his subordinate's face.

"What are you smiling about?" 

"The President."

"What about the President?" Toby stopped looking at what he was doing and rubbed his fuller-than-usual beard.

"He's going to do it," Sam said quietly, with an air of confidence and pride.

"What is he going to do, Sam?"

"Reelection."

Toby abruptly focused on him. "You're talking about last week." 

"Yeah," Sam said quietly, feeling the awe stirring in him again.

"He set the place on fire without setting it on fire," Toby agreed. It was perhaps the only time he would ever admit that the President had by far exceeded his expectations and even improved upon what he had written.

Sam just smiled more. "Anyway, I just came in here to, you know..." 

"Sam."

"Yeah?" Sam started to look a little nervous; his name had been spoken in that cut-it-out voice that usually meant some kind of impending doom.

"How many hours are left until the State of the Union?"

"Fourteen." 

"Why are you not typing?"

"We're done with it?"

"We were. We're not now." Toby stood up and tossed the pad he'd been reviewing at Sam.

Sam looked at it, then looked up in astonishment. "You can't mean to-" he started.

"I do mean to. Not the whole thing, Sam; just the parts that didn't have enough of what we needed. We're writing them now, and if the President doesn't set the place on fire, it will be because the power went out, or something else unlikely." 

Sam was nearly dumbfounded. "I'm just going to go, you know--" he backed toward the door. "Write. A lot." 

"Sam!" Toby called. The younger man turned around. "Imagery."

Sam just smiled, and went into his own office.

Toby sat back down, fingering the controls of a cassette player he'd almost forgotten he had in his desk. He turned the tape over and over again in his hands, willing it to speak again, and finally put it back in the machine and started to listen to it again.

* * *

"Donna!"

"Yeah?"

"Come in here, please." Josh appeared at his office door and gestured. He was finally clean-shaven this morning; unable to completely miss work, he had opted to treat the White House as his place of mourning, as had Toby.

Donna stood up, surprised, and slowly came into his office. Josh picked up a tape from his desk. "Sam gave this to me after the funeral."

"I thought you listened to yours already," Donna said in surprise. She'd had one too, short and to the point, and also with a stern reminder that she was responsible for representing the Sisterhood now.

"It's not mine. It's ours."

"There's no us, Josh... we talked about it, you know..." Donna trailed off, waving one hand about.

"I know we did." Josh lifted his eyebrows a little bit and took the tape out of its case. "But from something Sam said, I think we might have been wrong."

Donna found herself staring down at the machine. "Really?"

Josh quirked a smile at her; a little cocky, but also very cute. "Yeah, really. Come listen with me." He took her hand.

"I'm shutting the door," Donna told him.

"Okay." He waited while she came back, and twined his fingers with hers again. "You ready?"

* * *

It was nearly midnight before they gathered in Leo's office. Sam had mentioned in the afternoon that he'd like to talk to them there, and they had felt their foreheads crinkle as they looked at him with worry, then looked at the place where CJ would have been sitting.

Sam had just shaken his head and smiled.

Charlie left Zoey at the doorway, kissing her lightly as he whispered good night. Leo, already and uncharacteristically inside, smiled a bit at Charlie as he came in. A bit later, Carol drifted in, her face a little tight with concern and stress. They were rotating the briefings, and Carol had suddenly found a great deal of the Press Secretary's work shifted to her shoulders. Also, she was feeding Gail.

Toby absently patted Margaret on his way by, and she looked up at him in alarm, but he just continued into Leo's office, waiting by the couch. Josh and Donna walked in, one arm around the other's waist. Leo's jaw dropped a bit, but he decided to wait and see. They all needed someone to be a comfort right now.

Just as they were fidgeting and looking for something to discuss while they waited for Sam, he arrived, carrying a box. They could hear him murmur something to Mallory, as Leo rolled his eyes, and then he came in, elbowing the door shut carefully behind him.

"What's going on?" Leo half-growled at him, pushed by watching him try to flirt with Mallory a good part of the evening.

"I want to thank everyone for coming." Sam put the box down on the table and lifted the lid, then brushed his fingers across the tops of the files. "You've all listened to the tapes, right?" 

"Yeah," Josh said first, echoed by the others. Donna rubbed his arm and leaned on him just a little bit, with affection.

"Okay. Good. Well... this will all make sense now." Sam pulled out two heavy files and handed one to Leo and Toby. Carol got the next one, and Josh and Donna reached out for the next one together. Charlie stood still, watching them all with wonder as they opened each one and began to read.

"Does the President know about this?" Leo inquired after flipping to the fourth page.

"In a general way, yes. He hasn't seen any of these."

"This is good," Toby said, standing up and continuing to read. "This is... is good. A good thing." He looked over at Sam.

Leo continued to read, as Josh and Donna wandered their way to a chair and sat down, eyes still fixed on their file.

"I agree, but I don't know if we can really use this," Leo declared after several more pages.

Sam picked up the rest of the files and set them on Leo's desk with a definite thump. The older man looked up in surprise and glared. Sam stared right back.

"They were made to be used. They were all written in the last five months. She wrote them to be used," Sam advised icily. Toby looked up to watch the interaction with interest.

"Sam..." Leo rubbed his face.

"This is exactly what we need," Carol put in abruptly, looking up from her own memo.

"Leo," Josh said, gently moving Donna off his lap before standing, "you saw the President last week. He set the place on fire. He's ready. He's going to do it." 

"And he set the place on fire again this evening," Sam added. "We've got the President, Leo. Wherever he was the first couple of days, he's back, and he's ready to go, with the same enthusiasm and sense of the right thing to do that drew this team together in the first place, that compelled CJ to write this." 

At Leo's glance, Toby tapped his memo. "He's going, Leo. This is the President; he wants this, and if we expect or want anything less of him, then we shouldn't be working for him." 

"I thought it was the end of this adminstration, you guys. I really did." Leo shook his head and looked at the file again, then stood up. Everyone straightened, eyes bright and fiery with the determination to serve this work.

And then he looked at the frame set near his desk, against one wall. Drawn by his glance, first Sam, then Josh, Toby, Charlie, Carol, and Donna all looked at it too.

"Bartlet for America," Leo said softly, shaking his head in astounded wonder.

"Let Bartlet be Bartlet," Josh said, the same look of wonder and awe on his face that Leo had seen after a speech at a VFW hall in Nashua. 

"It never goes away," Charlie murmured.

Suddenly, they were grinning, and Toby was smiling a little, still waving the file around.

"We need to read it all."

"Yeah." Sam came over and examined it, waving Carol to join them.

"And this section..."

"Where does that bit fit in with ours?"

"Give me the index," Donna directed. 

"We'll keep this one for a few months, see where we are."

"And the stump speeches..."

"We will do what is hard, and we will do what is right..."

"Four more years."

"We reach for the stars." 

"Why?"

"Because we do."

"Okay. What are we reaching for them with?"

"I'm glad we don't let you write for the President..."

"This is a time for dreaming to become reality... a time for..." 

Charlie nodded at Leo and slipped out of the office quietly, smiling.

"... and in that section... new global..." 

"But there's four more years."

"Dammit, Sam, the wrath of the whatever..."

"Forget the whatever; it's got nothing on this."

"I'm blaming you, Josh..."

"Fine. And there's the story..." They stood on tiptoe, pointing and gesturing, and Leo sat back down at his desk.

_We're back in the game_, he thought, sighing and feeling a sudden relaxation.

Only then did he feel himself crying, tears tracking down his cheeks as he shook silently, still watching his staff get ready to set the world on fire.


	19. Into the Fire

_Into the Fire_

July.

CJ knows, in some buried awareness, that she was denying it all those weeks ago in the hospital. She said as much to the First Lady, and now... and now it's an irrevocable choice, bound by career and situation and politics.

Some days, some times, when she can pause to think, she's as angry at the President for this as she was over the multiple sclerosis she didn't know about. But mostly, and increasingly, that is buried under the determination that he not pay the price for this as well; that having a female senior staff member was not what made the difference against him.

If they lose... if they lose, CJ doesn't know what she'll do, but they won't lose because of her. And so she tells everyone, flinging herself back into what she does best, knowing that this is one time when she must be utterly graceful, when spin is an art of the highest price for the lowest reasons.

Toby had found her in her office after the strategy meeting with Leo, folded over on her couch and sobbing uncontrollably. His hands had descended on her wrists, lightly, waiting for her to look up. His eyes were oh, so eloquent, brown pools of regret and pride and determination. Pride for her, and regret and determination for her, too, as he knelt in front of her, waiting patiently for the tears to stop. She'd wound up with her face buried in his shoulder for a good ten minutes before managing several deep breaths and sitting up again to meet his eyes. 

"I was going to argue against it, but Sam got there first," he mentioned then.

She gave him a slightly crooked smile. "I figured."

"I'd also rather watch Sam and Josh argue."

"Me too." She sighed. "Do you think I'm making a mistake?"

"You're the only one who can decide that, CJ."

"Except I'm not, Toby."

"No." He sighed a little and looked down. "No." He seemed to hesitate, then stood. 

"Toby?"

He turned. "I don't think any of us knows right now. Not when we're fighting so many fights." 

"Yeah."

He stood in the doorway for a minute, expression changing in ways that were so subtle and yet so readable, as she sat on the couch regarding him, one hand coming up quickly to tuck her hair behind her ear.

* * *

The following week, Margaret found CJ on her knees in the restroom.

"CJ?" Anxious and pale, Margaret crouches next to an equally pale CJ.

"Yeah?" CJ stays folded over with her face half-hidden by her hair; it's too much effort to lift her head again, and her stomach just settled down.

"Leo was worried about you."

At that, CJ does lift her head slowly until she can look at the other woman.

"Staff started ten minutes ago," the redhead elaborated after a minute. At that, CJ goes paler, then flushes again, knowing why Leo sent his assistant to look, and knowing they must all be ready to search the building from top to bottom.

"Oh." She paused and swallowed, then took a breath, willing her stomach to stay calm. She could do this. She had to do this. "Shit. I'm sorry..." 

"No, no, it's okay," Margaret hastened to assure her, eyes going wider than usual. "Do you want anything before you come back?"

"This to be over," CJ muttered as she extended a hand.

"We're behind you all the way," the other answered, taking CJ's hand and helping her up. The Press Secretary dipped her head awkwardly before meeting Margaret's eyes again.

"The hard way?"

"There's an easy one?"

"You're a funny woman, Margaret," CJ told her, feeling a small smile force its way onto her lips.

"So I've been told. Need anything?"

CJ shook her head. "It's best to let it think it's won for a while."

Margaret just stared at her, unable to say what she wanted to. CJ picked up on it anyway.

"There's no difference between what's best for me and best for the President right now, Margaret."

To her surprise, Margaret blinks rapidly before leading her out the door and down the hall, back to Leo's office. They all stand up in relief, and Margaret smiles, then rubs her back lightly before retreating. Toby starts to step forward to take her place, but CJ shakes her head at him, just a little. The other three stop, too, and let her make her way to the couch by herself.

Their warm and concerned regard is still the most comforting thing in the world right then.

* * *

August.

CJ dances. Josh and Toby and Sam dance with her, weaving in and out of topics that ordinarily would never be touched. Slowly, the magnitude starts to form, and CJ eyes it bearing down on her, wondering if she can take the sheer awful weight of it. 

The number of bills emphasizing the need to pay attention to and stop violence against women that have died in committee in the last two weeks alone is truly astounding. They've been killed by both sides; Republicans because it's too prochoice and because the President lied and they want the Presidency back, Democrats because they're trying to distance themselves from the White House.

Josh looks weary and strained. Never before has he had to be so subtle in conveying the White House's position on anything, as he tries to get at least one bill the publicity necessary to at least raise awareness. Nor have Toby and Sam ever had to convey such a strong, delicate message. Simultaneously appeasing and appealing to two utterly polarized groups without either realizing it's a cornerstone of a Presidential campaign is so utterly daring that they wander the building far into the night, wondering at their own boldness, their own challenging of the way things are.

At the tail end of a morning rant in the Oval about the way this must be done, CJ stands up to glare down at the morning's combatants. Yesterday it was Josh all by himself; today it's Josh and the President, with Josh on the side of political reality as he was not yesterday. The President is swearing that he's going to go live on the networks and deliver a barnburning speech on women's violence and tell anyone who doesn't agree this is a pressing issue they're idiots of the greatest magnitude.

"You can't, sir!" CJ shouted. Then she swayed a little, closing her eyes and placing one hand over her stomach. Sam and Toby have equal reflexes; they both stand, hovering at her side, one hand of each ever so lightly touching her elbows. She can feel a fine film of sweat break out, and puts her other hand over her mouth to deny the nausea.

When she opens her eyes, the President is staring at her.

"You can't do that, Mr. President," she repeats.

"It should be said," he objects.

"We can't always say or do what we want, sir."

"CJ, are you having second thoughts?" The query contains no animosity, and is nearly paternal.

CJ straightened a little, ignoring the shooting pain in her left leg, and met his eyes, unaware that one hand is still over her stomach. "No, sir."

Leo directs his gaze to his friend; he was there to watch CJ insist how this be handled and the President wasn't. It's why only the President can voice this question, and why the others ask it in silent hesitation with their eyes.

"CJ, how can you not want this addressed?"

"It will be addressed, sir, just not now."

"But it will do the most good now."

"No, sir, it wouldn't, because no one's willing to listen to such a direct address now. They've already taken sides and recreated the polarization of this debate." 

"CJ!"

"You have to let us protect you, Mr. President!"

Every man in the room can feel the way that sentence forced its way up from the core of CJ's soul. They all stare, reluctant to speak.

"What about protecting-" the President stops midsentence.

"Me?" CJ finishes. "There's nothing that protects you that doesn't protect me, sir."

"CJ..."

She is paler, but refuses to back down, with Sam and Toby still standing, waiting to hold her up; right here and now, they are her protection.

"You can't, sir. This is what there is. You can't go out there on national TV, any more than the rest of us can. Maybe someday, but not now. I can't deliver a statement on the statistics of this. None of us can. It would hurt us, it would hurt you, and it wouldn't accomplish anything. You have to let us protect you, sir."

The President looks over at Leo, who meets his eyes in silence. Slowly, he nods, assenting to this silent, great, terrible work of political art. CJ relaxes, and Sam and Toby take a step back. Josh looks down at his lap awkwardly, aware of his role.

"Anything else?" the President finally asks, very quietly. He is met with shaken heads, and stands up.

"Thank you, Mr. President."

* * *

"CJ, why hasn't the White House addressed this issue?"

"Mark, I've addressed the lack of addressing it at least five or six times."

"CJ, seriously."

"This is an issue too important to be governed by an attempt to score points."

The men have taken to congregating in one of their offices to watch the briefing. Today, they stand in front of Josh's desk, watching their colleague with worry. CJ looks unhappy, one expression that's been accentuated by the slight rounding her face has been undergoing.

Toby turns back and forth in place; ordinarily Sam would tease him about his frown becoming permanent, but won't now, aware of his own frown. Josh is threatening retribution under his breath.

"So the White House doesn't have a position on this?"

"That's not what I meant, Mark, and you know it. Steve?"

"CJ, what's your position?"

"My position is that I serve at the pleasure of the President, Steve."

"Regarding punishment for rape."

CJ lifted her eyebrows and angled them almost dangerously. "I get the same level of justice as any other woman, Steve. Whether that's any justice at all is up to application of the current laws, which includes catching the attackers. While it'd be nice to have a conviction for 100 percent of assaults, we all know that's not going to happen, because we have an imperfect system. All we can do is go on, and try to ensure that the violent individuals don't win by changing our lives drastically. That's just as true for me as it is for the hypothetical Jane Doe; working for the President doesn't automatically mean things will change. That's all; I'll be back around dinnertime. Thank you, everybody."

"Thank you, CJ," a few reporters managed.

"That was good," Carol complimented as they walked down the hall.

"Thank you." CJ pinched the bridge of her nose a little. "What do I have now?" 

"Returning calls." Carol looked ahead as they rounded the corner. "The guys are in your office." 

"Yeah." She took the messages and went in. "I know, I know, I shouldn't have said that..." CJ went around her desk and set the messages down before she even looked up. The three men are standing perfectly still, staring at her. "Guys?" 

Toby took a deep breath. Slowly, he blinked, but continued to stare.

"Guys, you're kind of freaking me out here, so if you could get on with it..." CJ requested with a small smile. 

"Come here," Toby directed. CJ came back around the desk until she was facing him, just inches away.

"Yes?" 

He hugged her.

"Toby," she mumbled, muffled, after a minute. He pulled back and eyed her, lifting his hands to either side of her face.

"You are amazing," he noted, and left. CJ stared after him, then looked at Sam and Josh. 

"You tell 'em, CJ," Josh managed before pulling the door open and striding down the hallway. Sam gave her a small smile full of pride.

"Sam?" He turned at the door. "I did good?" Her voice was laced with confusion, even though a hesitant smile had made its way onto her features. Sam didn't answer her question verbally, just nodded, letting his own smile take up his whole face before he turned to follow his friends.

* * *

September.

CJ buries her crystalline panic, as it tries to claw its way up, endlessly repeating.

She never thought she might not be there for the conclusion to the purpose of this. Belief and pride and other, less definable things spur her on. 

They aren't always there in force, though. Quiet whispers sneak up at the back of her mind. She's less than halfway along. The twins aren't that there yet. There's the temptation, cycling through her mind as much as the news that sparked it anew, to do what her doctor told her not to do. Go running. Stay on her feet for hours. Lift something heavy. There's an insistent part of her declaring that no one would ever know it wasn't an accident... after all, she does have one of the most demanding jobs in the country, almost insidiously so. But CJ the Press Secretary, running into the relentless political fire, knows that there would be rumors, and the rumors would spread, and then they would gain force, and there would be a crashing scandal.

The Congressional investigation is in full fury. They cannot afford anything else.

But she has to know. Sam knows, and in privacy they carry out an argument that would have been considered uncivil in a bar. CJ's relentless, protective logic wins out, as does Sam's awareness that if CJ doesn't know for sure, it could destroy almost everything she's gained. Sam, whom she trusted with this awful knowledge, who wept tears of rage and anticipatory grief when she told him, eyes huge with denial and disbelief and determination renewed; who then in short sequence asked if she needed anything, anything at all, and then vowed to hunt down her attackers and beat them with his own hands. It is that question, and CJ's silent, eloquent response, which allows him to be so very aware of why this must be their next action.

Joey Lucas was their next phone call. She acknowledged their trust, and set in motion something more daring than what Josh had asked of her.

Four days later, CJ sees the results, and closes her eyes. She had hoped, just a little, in some optimistic corner of her brain, that this would give her an out; that the public would understand, that they would trust that this was really what it was from. And so, after an agonized conversation with Sam, she sets more polls in motion, desiring to know what the cost would be.

It doesn't change anything. CJ's resolve hardens to a sharp point, and she wonders, just a little, what the President and Leo would do if they knew just how big a figurative bullet she is protecting them from right now. They don't get to know; she protects them, not the other way around. Even Toby and Josh can't help her stand in front of this one; just Sam, standing by as she and the job and reelection strategy meld into one relentless force.

* * *

"There's someone from the women's groups coming over later."

CJ raised her eyebrows at Carol. "It took them this long?"

"They may have been waiting for your position to change. Want me to hide all the love letters from the Christian Coalition?"

"All negative three hundred of them?" CJ returned dryly. "Yeah, sure." 

"Need anything else?" Carol offered quietly.

"No, thanks." CJ smiled a bit before she vanished into her office. 

_'We must change. Our current methods aren't working; they were designed for a different society nearly a century ago, when our country was flooded with a different kind of immigrant, and when there were few cars, and no planes or televisions or computers. We're falling further behind against the world, and we can only ignore this fact for so long before it becomes something we must face._

'This isn't about what the best way to do everything is; it's about the fact that we're not doing enough to find the best ways. Education is the cornerstone of this country; it is education which permits us to be free. Whether the solution in the long run is home schooling or Internet schools or changes in the current educational system which are truly meaningful is not necessarily relevant. What is relevant is that we all raise our hand and admit we're not fulfilling our promise, that this generation and others may be denied the most essential freedom of knowledge. What is relevant is that we sustain the curiosity and courage and determination that permitted the founding of this country.

'What is also relevant is that we as a people truly mean those changes, and are willing to support them. They won't all work at first, so we need a broader theme, asking the people, and asking the students, what they want, and genuinely changing the system so we can provide this right in fact instead of only in name. Far too many children grow up unaware of the fact that it's better to ask the question, and even if nothing else is changed, that must. Anything else is a violation of the trust children place in adults. Curiosity is not to be mocked, but rather to be applauded.'

"CJ?"

CJ looked up from her keyboard. "Yeah?"

"Amy Gardner." 

"From the women's groups?"

"Yeah." 

CJ thought for a second, then closed down her laptop and nodded. "Okay." Carol nodded and disappeared back around the door.

"Good afternoon," Amy greeted.

"Good afternoon." CJ stood and cautiously returned the other woman's extended hand. "What can I do for you?" she inquired, gesturing to one of the visitor's chairs.

"Thanks." Amy paused while she seated herself, and seemed to be thinking. "I'm not sure you can do anything for us, but I've been asked to convey the positions of NOW and the WLC, so I thought we'd go from there." 

"I think I can guess," CJ replied, raising her eyebrows a little bit.

"We're wondering whose side you're on."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We're wondering whether you're-"

"Amy, if the end of that sentence is 'prolife or prochoice' then the door's over there." 

The other's jaw dropped a little bit. "No. No, I... that wasn't exactly it. I was going to be nicer. There's just some concern that this administration is running to the right, when support from groups like NOW and the WLC will actually help more in the long run." 

CJ leaned forward. "I'd like nothing more, and the President does want your support. Of course he wants it. You agree on a wide range of issues. But at the same time..." she shook her head. "I have to think about what it would do to him to be so visibly prochoice right now."

"Is that really the most important thing?"

"When the alternative is likely a fairly conservative Republican, yes, it is!"

"CJ, I don't want to spend a lot of time arguing about this, but we can make it okay. If you choose to abort this pregnancy, to not have this child, it doesn't have to look bad."

"Children," CJ corrected softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Twins. I'm carrying twin girls."

Amy swallowed, but continued. "CJ, I can guarantee the support of every women's group in the country."

"And you'll make it look good?" 

"CJ, you were raped. This isn't an inconvenience; this was forced on you." Amy seemed to back up a little bit as CJ focused her eyes on her, dark and dwelling on something dark. "And yes, yes, of course we can. This is what we do. We bring women's issues front and center."

"And they should rightly be there. Just not this election."

"CJ-" 

"He'll focus on it in the second term. Do you have any ideas how many bills have been killed in the House since I announced I was pregnant? Bills that would have imposed incredibly harsh punishments on rapists? Bills that would allow women who got pregnant from such an event to fast track to an abortion, instead of facing potential stonewalling from doctors and whoever else thinks it's their business?"

"Yeah, I am. We can put our support behind that, too."

"It won't work." 

"With the women's groups placing pressure on members of Congress? Of course it will."

"They're too pissed at us."

"They won't know we're doing it for you." 

"Of course they will! And even if they don't, they'll suspect it!"

"What does it matter?"

"We can't do this right now. If the President wins a second term, he'll focus on it, and the White House will do what we can. But right now, I am carrying the twins to term and we're not trying to push new legislation through on this."

"CJ, you've got to think about yourself here. How do you think you're going to feel a year, five years down the road?"

"I am thinking about myself."

"No, you're thinking about what's best for the President."

"That's what I do." 

"CJ, how can you do this?"

"Dammit, Amy, this is what I do! There is no difference! What's best for me and best for the President is the exact same thing! We do want your support, we just don't want to do what you're suggesting to get it. You can all make this look good on the women's issues front; it just requires a different perspective. Can you work with us on this? Please?"

Amy stared at her, dark eyes intent, with her thinking almost visible. CJ watched the other woman consider this, hoping that she'd made clear what they wanted from WLC, NOW, and their sister organizations clear without making clear something that had to remain unspoken and unknown outside a very small circle.

At last, Amy made eye contact, and nodded slowly. "You have to do it this way because the public hasn't fully accepted a woman's right to choose, even in this instance," she remarked. CJ nodded back, and let a breath out, but Amy wasn't done thinking. "You're doing this on purpose. This is campaigning."

CJ couldn't breathe for a moment, as her careful mask slipped. She glanced away, knowing that the answer had been given away in that first second of complete panic. Less than halfway through, more than a year to the election, and she'd given it away. Dammit.

To her surprise, Amy actually started to smile. "CJ, I swear, if anyone ever finds out, and they're pissed, you call me. Wherever I am, you call me, and I will back you up. This is the gutsiest thing I've ever seen. I think you're absolutely and completely insane, and that you're unbelievably courageous."

"Thank you," CJ answered softly, with a smile of her own.

"I'm your wingman," she said, standing.

CJ's smile grew. "Wouldn't that be wingwoman?"

"Too awkward. Some things aren't worth the gender fight. Seriously, CJ, we're there." 

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks," CJ said, suddenly grinning a little.

* * *

October.

CJ muses that there's a certain delicacy to her interactions with Sam these days. She trusts him enough to let him come up behind her, to lean on him during lamaze, to tell him what no one else knows, and yet for those very reasons, especially the last one, the roles of protector and protectee begin to reverse themselves a little. Sam has a better poker face than Josh about some things, but she's become so acquainted with the look he gets when he wants to ask her to not do this for him, for any of them, even the President, that she can read it almost in her sleep. So her pain becomes more her own again, balanced out by Josh's knowledge of trauma and Toby's silent, exceptional, unconditional bracing.

She does find it peculiar that the time when she started wearing skirts regularly again and the time when pain began stabbing down through her left calf halfway through the day coincided. CJ hid the scar while it was still ragged and healing and causing her to limp regularly, but now it is a reminder, however quiet, that her current course was not of her own making. On a good day, a sardonic smile comes across her face as she hears steps become irregular after people pass her in the hallway, or as they come up behind her. On a bad day, anyone she catches is met with her intimidating stare. She's wearing skirts again to be normal, dammit, not to be stared at by people who do, after all, work in the same White House as a President with multiple sclerosis.

And she can no longer forget she's pregnant during the afternoons, as she sometimes could earlier, after the morning sickness had come and gone. Now she's too large, and muscle cramps and injured tissue conspire to leave her sprawled on her couch to work, hot packs tucked under the offending limb, or driven by pride and need and fear to stride steadily down the hallway. Even when she wants to fold herself into a corner and weep from the pain, to say nothing of its cause, she holds herself steady, and wonders if actors have to hide how they feel this much.

* * *

"Hey," she said, softly tapping on Josh's door. 

He looked up, guilt and worry suddenly written all over his features. "Hey. How you doing?"

"Well, I'd like to go home pretty bad," she returned, leaning on the frame. 

"You've been on your feet a lot today, between the dinner and regular briefings. You should go home."

"I've got all this... you know, stuff..." CJ trailed off and pressed a hand to her forehead.

"CJ, sit down." Josh stood up urgently and took her by the arms, noticing that she didn't so much as start a little or even look up to meet his eyes, as though making sure it was really him. She had to be tired indeed. "Where's Sam?"

"Home," she replied, leaning back in the chair. "I was going to work on the thing..."

"It'll still be there in the morning."

"Josh..." CJ made eye contact. "I've gotta work on it. It's an important thing."

"You can't do it when you're like this," he objected. "Donna!"

"What's Donna still doing here?" she murmured.

"She's crazier than you are."

"Yeah?"

"I'm taking CJ home."

"I'll get her stuff," Donna answered, vanishing back down the corridor.

"'M fine," CJ objected.

"Sure you are."

"Not an elephant."

"I'm sorry!" Josh exclaimed. She actually cracked a smile at that. "We still good?" 

"Mm-hmm."

"Don't go," she sleepily requested almost an hour later. Josh stopped in surprise. 

"CJ, are you sure this is a good-"

"It's fine," she grumbled. Tension started to coil about her again, and Josh dropped his keys on a table in acquiescence.

"You going to sleep?" he asked as he sat down next to her. CJ was still sitting up against the headboard, with a certain thoughtful expression that had become almost a constant of late.

"Yeah." She rubbed at one shoulder. Josh reached over and touched it lightly, feeling how tightly coiled her muscles had become.

"CJ, you've got to take good care of yourself..." he started.

"I am."

"I've seen clocks less tightly wound than this; hell, Toby was probably more relaxed during the Mendoza confirmation. Come here." She moved as though to lay down, then stopped, looking down. Josh laid his hands on her shoulders, but she didn't tense or move away. "Come on. Let's get some of the tension out of those shoulders, okay?"

"Yours are probably tenser," she answered, a bit of a laugh in her voice. 

"Maybe." He was silent for a bit, hands moving, still surprised that CJ was letting him do this. "You should take some time for yourself." Her shoulders tightened a little again, and he winced.

"I am, Josh. I'm helping the President."

"That's not time for yourself." 

"It is for me." CJ's voice was rough and definite, and Josh nodded.

"Okay, okay. I just want you to be all right, CJ."

She turned, stopping him. "That's better. Thank you, Josh."

"You're welcome," he replied with a hug.

Later, CJ reached out and touched Josh's face lightly, worry suddenly casting across her features. What would this cost him? Dear Josh, who had both restrained and unleashed all his political acumen, all his political force, over the past couple of months.

* * *

November.

A year will see this succeed and not credited, or come crashing down.

CJ can't help but wonder if the Secret Service feels this same bitter exhaustion sometimes, or if the more instant nature of their need to actively protect, to step in front of the bullet, precludes this kind of tattered fury. Regardless, it is not the same; should one agent fall protecting the President, there are more. If CJ falls, if she burns out against the pressure of protection, of doing the right thing by her President, there is no one else. It will cost him everything, and will save neither careers nor the election from disaster.

So her relentless art burns its way into her soul. Only Sam has seen some of what she is working on, but what he looked at left him smiling and breathless, eager to take on the world and challenge America to have a real election again.

The daily spin, the quenching of that determined fire, gnaws painfully at who CJ is. It is an injustice, but it is one of the few CJ is completely unaware of; for her, she is doing what must be done, what she came to the campaign to do. Anything and everything else is of no consequence, and so she is surprised when people note the driven tension around her mouth and eyes, the long hours, the need constantly reflected in her eyes. She is a little less surprised to feel as though she has been refined to pure essence, a force rather than an individual, or to be told she is as a force of nature. A top DNC official on his way out of Josh's office wanted to know where they'd been hiding CJ's talent all this time and if they could use her in some other races; Josh thanked him, noted that CJ already had a job, and then came down to her office and remarked how badly he wanted to hit the offending individual with a baseball bat.

CJ just shrugged and wondered what else they could have expected. Josh gave her an odd look full of pain and the desire to save her from this, and reminded her to eat.

They've all, in fact, been apparently more than happy to play their roles of father, aunt, uncle, or grandfather on her these past weeks. CJ danced around all of it almost automatically, and kept going. The number of bills being killed off in committee that address violence against women has gone down, but that's only because there are almost none being proposed. The House is generally too busy calling staffers for testimony. The women's groups have been coming through, and a few members of the Christian Right seem to think that the Bartlet administration might not be a total den of sin, after all. Despite the fact that he knows Mary Marsh, it was a fair compliment to see Reverend Caldwell praising her on TV and noting that there had to be a way to handle this that was respectful of all sides.

Yet the primary success of this silent strategy only increases her drive to finish the other strategies. She's protected them one way, all the way up through the end of a possible second term, and unless someone does something very stupid they're covered on the morals front up until next November, most likely, but that's a small fraction of what it will take to win this election. This election, which the President shouldn't be running in, because he shouldn't have won the first one and because it was going to be Answer B, but is running in anyway, trying to convince the American people he is worthy to run the country for another four years.

Even before Josh gives her the thing with the Stockbridge-Munsee tribe and then vows to be there for her for whatever she needs to make up for it, her world has narrowed to spin and strategy, to her job and the cause of further complexity in her job... to serving the President and protecting him. After that, another form of injustice showing on her radar, CJ writes even faster, sometimes dictating when she thinks too fast for her fingers to keep up, and wondering how much more her keyboard can take, and if she might just use up all the space on her laptop, too. Her fingers are tired and a little bruised, but that doesn't matter. 

This must be done.

* * *

December.

CJ muses at the mixture of kindness and cruelty inherent in holding a baby shower for this. On the one hand, she wishes she didn't have to grant anything more than she must... and yet, it's other women's way of lending support, of helping out so she doesn't have to get all of this by herself. And the men, too, she can't help but consider, pulling out cradles and carseats and cribs, following up on the support they promised when they agreed to be as fathers and grandfathers.

These two girls are going to be oddly named, and she has to remember that she can't really include the name of everyone who's important to her. Some of them don't really translate to feminine names well, either, but some do, and CJ eyes those, still considering that she might not be the one to name them aloud. She doesn't want her honoring of these people to turn to pain, and trusts that they'll understand, no matter what happens. 

Then Toby forgets, and puts the administration's agenda even further ahead of CJ than she herself does, in a manner that is almost heartbreakingly typical for him. In a twisted way, it's flattering that she's good enough at hiding that deepset pain that he, of all the staffers and friends, has forgotten why they're doing what they're doing right now, but that doesn't change that what he's telling her to do makes bile rise in her throat and causes her brain to go all ablaze with full outrage.

He _cannot_ be asking her to essentially support Qumar, of all places. He can't. 

But he is, and she propels herself out the door and halfway to the Washington Monument before realizing she's stalked out of a senior staff meeting and that Josh, Leo, and Sam are probably worried about her.

Also, she evidently managed to trip somewhere, or something, because her leg suddenly starts hurting so badly it takes everything she has, all the barriers and pride and determination she's developed over the past few months, to make her way to a bench without showing how much she wants to fall over and shed tears of pain and rage.

It is oh, so very humbling to find out later that her whispered words to Leo, Josh, and Sam on that bench have altered the course of foreign relations. She knows that if they hadn't already wondered, if they hadn't already been aware of the contradiction and hypocrisy being demonstrated, that it wouldn't have made a difference if she'd shouted it from the podium, but it caused an amazing feeling, full of both relief and disquiet, when Leo told her the deal had been withdrawn.

The latter half of December tears at her soul. Josh's question and Toby's quiet compliment full of joy remind her that these men and this team are completely unaware they may soon be facing a gap in their ranks. And even as she silenced Sam, she nearly broke down herself and told Josh, instead volunteering him for their trip to test her nerve and keep Sam, who might just say something, away from her father.

Her father... CJ silently blesses all the months of control, even though there's hardly any need for it. It doesn't even register on her awareness that what he's just asked her is something that should have her in tears, and somewhere, she knows that isn't quite right. Then he asks again, and CJ can feel an internal flinch, a little chip of her control and relentless armor against separating herself and her job flying away. She silently curses herself later for slipping into near tears in front of Al, but he might be the one person who is safe for that right now, just as he can know that she and Josh will curl into bed together to stave off the nightmares.

Sleep is one thing she has not conquered yet. It makes her human again, and CJ thinks, in some dim corner of her mind, that she shouldn't be noticing the difference quite so much.

* * *

January.

It comes in as a bright, shy smile to the President in the focus of dozens of cameras. Months ago, she would have wept when the President wished her a happier year, but months ago she would not have been driven to such shielded toughness, built up until she feels faded away inside, and is more than ready for the next four weeks to pass, one way or another.

The day the President is censured, she makes it to about 6 pm, then slumps wearily onto her couch with the door closed; Toby finds her hours later, face smudged by weary tears.

"You're going home," he directed gently. CJ shook her head, looking cross. "CJ, come on." His arms encircle her in silent support, and she finally stands, leaning.

"Let him down," she murmured at the ground, but Toby heard her.

"No. No, we didn't. We can still do this, CJ. Come on. It'll look better in the morning," he suggested, guiding her out and into the car and finally into her apartment. At last, he stands, visibly hesitant, aware that anger still lies between them.

"It's okay," she conceded. 

Carefully, he helps her lie down comfortably, then goes to the other side and tucks himself in, folded gently against CJ. She places her near hand against his chest, but makes no other move, closing her eyes.

Sleep denies, and after a time she opens them again, looking at Toby outlined in the dark. He is relaxed, but still awake.

"I wish they were yours," she said softly.

Toby opened his eyes slowly and looked at her. CJ swallowed and looked at him, then back up, staring at nothing.

"I would have preferred the scandal, rather than this. Anything else... I could have handled that."

For a moment, her confession hangs in the air. Toby slowly brings up one hand and lets it rest just below her breasts. "Me too," he admits, the words muted. He kisses her temple gently. "Sleep, CJ." 

Obediently, she closes her eyes and breathes out, then in, and out again, steadily, letting the pattern and the quiet intensity next to her lull her asleep.

* * *

_'I don't even recognize myself anymore, not really. Is this what my father will eventually experience as the Alzheimer's progresses, this wondering of who that person is that looks like me from six months ago, or eight months ago, or a year ago? My due date is so close now, and I wonder if I live through it if I'll ever be able to get back to normal, or if I'll forever remain CJ Cregg, whirlwind political mind, with nothing else left. I suppose that somehow I must become myself again, if only because I've retained just enough awareness to realize how much of myself I've lost. It's the sort of loss, though, that's hard for other people to see, and I can't decide whether to be grateful for that or not. It allowed me to do my job, but it prevented all those times when I wanted an alternative from even being known by most of my friends and colleagues._

'Is this even fair to my girls? At some point down the road, they're going to want to know certain things that I don't know if I can answer. Questions I'd no doubt have a good start on had I actually gone to any counseling sessions, but--oh, God, I can't even imagine the reaction. People's memories can be so short... and it would have taken just one newspaper, one photo, one hysterical remark by me, to make it all fly apart. This would have been so different had it happened a week earlier, before I stood in a room with the President of the United States and the rest of the senior staff and every reporter in the Western Hemisphere and watched the President vow to run again and win. And now I've borne all the repercussions in the most literal and horrible fashion, because of what I am and what he is and when it is. Sometimes I think I shouldn't have let fear drive me, but it wasn't just fear; it was knowledge of the political reality. And again, what about the girls? What the hell right have I to bring these two into the world because I work in politics, to say nothing of the possibility that Sam or Toby or Josh or, God forbid, the President, will have to be the ones to explain all of this?

'Is it the fact that I know how unbelievably and disgustingly arrogant I've been the past several months that's made me fly apart inside while forming the most daring political strategy of a generation?

'I don't know what's left of me. Leo told me the other day that I don't get the same light in my eyes anymore when I laugh, and haven't for months now. He says it's a tough, determined light instead, and I know he's right. Oh, I know he's right. It's obsession, the need to see this through at all costs, the need to not see Jed Bartlet, still a good man, crippled by the same person who's supposed to protect him and represent his administration. This good, good man, who would have done anything to keep me from doing this if he knew, who would have been helped by Leo and Toby. I convinced Sam to the point I needed to; I couldn't have convinced all of them, and some of them are my boss.

'Anyway, I hope one of them remembers who the real CJ is. Wherever she disappeared to, wherever I pushed her off to, she deserves to come back.'


	20. We Can't Get Over These Women

_We Can't Get Over These Women_

The Bartlet White House was driving everyone insane.

And the country was loving it. Suddenly, there was a cute couple among the senior staff, and sometimes the President's body man was seen with the President's youngest daughter, and there were pictures of the senior staff with two little baby girls.

Not only that, but it was a frank White House. Only those who could remember Presidents well before Nixon nodded and agreed that this was what the relationship between the executive branch and the public was supposed to be like. Everyone else was just happily confused.

Bruno Gianelli was baffled. By any reasonable estimate, these people should have been knocked off their feet. Their leader had been censured, and then they'd lost a key staff member. Yet wherever he looked, he could see the evidence of some handiwork; a quiet move by Josh on some legislative matter; some deft insert into a speech by Toby.

The interaction with the press was what set everyone back on their heels and left them wondering if Lillienfield had been right and one in three White House staffers were on drugs and if they were possibly genius drugs. The morning after CJ's funeral, Carol stood up in front of the press room and responded to the question "Was President Bartlet giving a campaign speech yesterday?" with "No, he was honoring a friend with the highest compliment he can give them: how he came to be their friend. The eulogy was for CJ; it wasn't for anyone else, even himself, and it certainly wasn't an attempt to give himself a ratings boost." A week later, she advised the Press Corps, and by extension the world, that the President's two major speechwriters had felt the State of the Union still could have been improved upon, and they considered the tone nothing special.

This was the same speech that had caused a record number of interruptions for applause, and caused the dialed-in ratings to go through the roof, not just for Democrats but for Republicans as well.

A couple of weeks after the State of the Union, they got the question about whether Josh and Donna were dating, and were surprised to be told that since the two kept acting like an old married couple, most of the staff had told them to just date already and get it out of their systems. Cute pictures to come; next question, please?

The White House, from the outside and until one interacted with it, did indeed look like a family in mourning. But when anyone poked it, they rapidly discovered that not only was everyone there, they were completely there.

Perhaps it was the fact that half a dozen staffers volunteered to catch up on the Big Block of Cheese Days. 

Perhaps it was that plus the fact that there was a ten-page note sitting in a box about developing a broader theme. The President had briefly discussed having it framed, but changed his mind, and just put it to work instead.

Perhaps it was sheer defiance of the odds. After all, when had this administration or this President ever gone where the odds said they would?

Whatever the reason, the White House suddenly emerged as being young and in touch with the public, and simultaneously having the support of women's groups and Christian organizations.

That last was probably what drove Bruno the craziest. It was understandable; even the senior staffers, who had discussed this very outcome months before, were a little confused by it.

* * *

"How did this happen, exactly?" Josh inquired, looking at a schedule and raising his eyebrows, then glancing up at Carol with a wrinkled forehead.

"You're upset?" Carol asked. "Not that there's much I can do about it. Neither of them work for the President-"

"Don't even mention her and the President in the same sentence, please," Toby growled.

"Sorry. But they don't. We're just going to have to sit through this edition of Capitol Beat."

"I wasn't in on that one thing, but I think some popcorn wouldn't be amiss," Sam tossed in.

"Yeah, Sam, that's exactly what we need right now," Leo said. "Enjoy it but don't look like it, people. Get some work done that day. And try not to cause World War III; those two will handle that part just fine all by themselves."

"With pleasure," Toby said, standing.

So they went about their business, and if some of the junior staffers wondered why Josh was occasionally smirking at his coworkers more than usual, they said nothing. It could have just as easily been from the fact that he was very much enjoying dating Donna, or at least the whole 3.5 dates, covering 45 minutes, they'd managed to have so far.

Ten minutes before showtime, they crowded into Toby's office, watching his TVs anxiously and hoping nothing would happen to put this off. Finally, Capitol Beat came on. 

"This morning, we are proud to have two highly distinguished female guests of dramatically opposing views, Mary Marsh and Amy Gardner."

"Yes!"

"Knock her down, please..."

"Somebody turn up the volume on this."

"Who's watching the-"

"Ginger made the great sacrifice of being out of the bullpen for this historic broadcast. Give her a birthday present, will you?" 

"We'll have a tape of this, right?"

"It won't be the same."

"Fine."

"Shhh!" 

"What are you watching?" Ainsley asked, poking her head in.

"Mary Marsh and Amy Gardner."

"Is there food?" she asked, squeezing onto the couch.

"Does that matter?"

"Not really," she answered Josh brightly.

"Shut up," Toby ordered.

"... and quite frankly, Ms. Gardner, I'm disgusted at the support women's organizations have shown toward CJ Cregg recently."

"Loser!" Josh and Margaret booed.

"Are you saying this isn't a valid women's issue?" Amy asked, tilting her head a little. 

"This isn't a women's issue at all; it's a question of morality, and women's groups should always be in support of-" 

"Did you mistake us for the Ladies' Auxilary? This had nothing to do with being moral or immoral; it's a compelling women's issue highlighting the problems of violence in this country." 

"Yes!" half the room exclaimed.

"I don't see how you can ignore the moral issue when it's clear that Ms. Cregg never would never have been in that situation were it not for her own questionable morals in working for a President who disagrees with the Church on so many critical issues!"

"Are you calling CJ Cregg immoral?" Amy asked, very quietly.

"I don't see how she could be moral working in that White House," Mary Marsh tossed back.

"Oh, my gosh," Ainsley murmured. "You are so stupid."

The devilish grins in the room affirmed her opinion.

"Really?" her opponent asked, blinking and apparently at a loss for words.

"Of course. The President lied; who knows what else he's lied about? How could a liar possibly pick a staff with acceptable morals?" 

"So the President's a liar now because he didn't tell the country he had multiple sclerosis and his Press Secretary became pregnant after being violently assaulted?"

"We don't even know that's how she became pregnant. She could just as easily have gotten those children out of wedlock, willingly, and made up the story. Quite frankly, I can't see how she would have lived with herself after bringing those two symbols of sin into the world!" 

Toby's TV set very nearly met its death at this point, as the President and Charlie stepped into the room just in time to hear the last statement. To no one's surprise, he made a rush for the TV, and everyone stood up just to keep him from punching it.

Their fists almost universally clenched, they looked at the TV again, realizing that Amy had made no rebuttal. Silently, they waited, eyes brimming with fury. It was fortunate that none of those expressions could launch themselves into the studio, or Mary Marsh would have fairly withered under the intensity.

At last, Amy pressed her lips together and set her hands carefully on the table. "Number one, you've just called the DC police and the staff of GW liars, or you couldn't be bothered to take a look at the report before coming here today. There are pictures. With dates. They're very graphic, though, so be sure you have a nice, moral man along to support you, although they might gross him out, too." There was a very faint hint of a smug smile, then Amy's face turned icy and implacable. "Second of all, you might want to think more carefully before attacking the honor of CJ Cregg's coworkers on national TV. Third, you clearly haven't read your Bible, or you missed some lessons in church, because you've clearly never heard of either the phrase 'Speak no ill of the dead' or 'Let he or she who is without sin cast the first stone'. Fourth, I've worked with these people and they're far too busy running the country and trying to save the world from narrow-minded people like you to have an affair. Fifth, no one you'd want to meet is the father of CJ's daughters. She was brutally beaten and assaulted and then came back to the work she loved because she loved her work and this country, and, although no one blames the White House, many people are also of the opinion that her dedication to her work killed her, since she died during a White House lockdown giving birth to her daughters. Sixth, you clearly never encountered CJ during her pregnancy or watched the press conference where she announced it, since she clearly stated that she didn't love these two any less for their violent beginning. Seventh, CJ's struggles are emblematic of the problems that women face in this country when they choose to have a career and be mothers at the same time, and how dare you imply anything else? Eighth, are you, a conservative, pro-life Christian, saying that CJ should have aborted her twins?" 

Toby's office exploded. The President clapped Charlie and Leo on the back. Josh and Donna wrapped their arms around each other and kissed. Margaret turned to Ainsley, and, seeing the glow in her eyes, gave her a high-five. Sam whooped loudly, hugging Carol.

"I'm saying that there are circumstances in which no woman should give birth."

"So Samantha Joan Cregg and Abigail Leona Cregg don't deserve to live just because their father was violent and their mother was the Press Secretary to the President?"

"The girls should not have been born. Anyone can see that," she attempted to recover.

"Do you even know their names?" 

"Why should I bother to learn their names? They'll probably take after their father anyway, and their mother wouldn't have been a good enough influence even if she'd survived the birth, which is another sign they should not have been born."

"So all the women that have died in childbirth died because they did something you disagreed with?"

"Not just me, and I didn't say that. Their natural nature would have tended to violence, and we can do without more people like that in the world." 

"Natural nature?" the President murmured, glancing at his speechwriters, who were nearly apopletic by this point without the provocation of mangled English.

It was a good thing Bonnie had possessed the foresight to hide Toby's rubber balls in her desk.

"If that's true, then what's the point of all the family values isses you and other Christian conservatives keep raising? What's the point of education at all?"

"Education should emphasize the-"

"-need for us to be educated, not stuck back in the Dark Ages," Amy shot back, fury noticeable. "CJ was courageous and determined, and for you to come on national TV and attack not only her but her coworkers is beyond low. I don't see how you can live with yourself."

There were a few more minutes of Amy quashing Mary Marsh, but nobody was really paying attention. Toby's office had become a furious cacophony, full of joy mixed with anger, and admiration mixed with concern. Harsh words had been exchanged, and no one knew how it would fall at the end of the day.

* * *

And so it was that women's groups and the majority of the Christian Right became strange bedfellows. There were a few extreme fringe groups on either side that still hated each other, but most of the Christian Right was so embarrassed they went to groups like NOW and WLC and suggested compromising, finding ways to work together for the betterment of the country instead of playing tug of war across the aisle.

It was a dream come true for a Catholic, Democratic incumbent, and a total nightmare for the Republicans. Consequently, there were few campaign stops except for the primaries in the following weeks, as there was really not a great deal to do except show up and watch their opponents tripping all over themselves, and there was nothing classy about that.

Of course, they got accused of being arrogant, but they were more than willing to run that risk. It certainly beat showing up within two states of a Republican candidate and being accused of gloating.

In the middle of this, Amy was offered a position within the White House, which she declined, saying she could do more good outside Pennsylvania Avenue. Nevertheless, she frequently came by to coordinate some aspect of strategy or just a campaign stop schedule. 

Toward the end of February, two things of note happened.

* * *

The first began as an ordinary staff meeting in the Oval. 

"Sir, what happened the other day can't happen again." 

"What exactly is that, Toby?" the President inquired, looking over the rims of his glasses.

"We bungled it," Carol interjected. "Sir."

"Yes, it was bungled," Toby exclaimed, "but I'm in charge and therefore I bungled it; I can't believe I'm saying 'bungled'. I'm the Communications Director; I'm supposed to direct communications." 

"Will one of you translate this, please?" Leo glowered.

Carol, Donna, Sam, and Toby all glanced at each other. Josh shrugged. "We've been rotating the press briefings," Donna started. "The office is still closed; there's no Press Secretary..." she paused here and seemed to wince, a guilty expression crossing her face, "and so when the Chinese were doing their war games and Taiwan was also raising its readiness, and the next day, during the New Hampshire primary and reporting on the results from Hartsfield's Landing, there wasn't anyone to coordinate definitively with the press."

"We can't even agree on what to call it," Toby said, waving one hand. "War games, military buildup, posturing... Carol did one evening briefing, Sam did the other, Donna did the one the next morning, and then Carol did another one."

"By the time we got to the morning briefing on the day of the New Hampshire primary, the Press Corps were incredibly confused. There was no go-to person," Sam added.

"I thought they were going to go to Carol," Josh put in.

"Some of them go to me, but I can't handle the full volume, and when I have to pass them off to Sam's office, that takes extra time and the possibility of confusion." 

"That's why two major newspapers reported that China was aiming nuclear warheads at Taiwan," Toby added.

"What, exactly, are you trying to tell me?" the President asked. 

"Sir, it's a miracle we didn't lose the New Hampshire primary, given the version of messaging the, ah, message that passes for the press office right now," Toby told him.

"I see." The President sat back. "So what do we do, or rather, what do you do, to keep this from happening again?"

They looked at each other.

Finally Leo seemed to realize that he alone could survive the President's reaction to the inevitable next statement, and turned to his best friend. "Mr. President, you have to name a new Press Secretary," he advised quietly.

"No." His tone left no room for doubt or flexibility.

"Sir..." 

"Leo, you're asking me to replace, to put someone else in that office, where--you're asking me to replace her after... it hasn't even been two months!"

Toby jumped hesitantly in. "Sir, we need to put a message out; the Press Secretary is the face of this administration. It's an absolutely essential position." 

"No kidding," the President glared.

"Sir," Leo tried, "whoever it is, they don't have to use the office, but we've got to solidify our message. The last couple of days are minor compared to what could happen in the future."

"Mr. President," Sam said quietly. "You think she's irreplaceable. We all agree... but, sir, we must be able to put a clear face on this White House."

"It was for this purpose that the position of Deputy Press Secretary was created," Toby added.

Bartlet glowered from one to the other, eyes gentling a little as he looked at Carol. "I completely understand. And no."

"Sir, you should allow Simon to be the Press Secretary; he's Deputy."

"He doesn't have enough oomph, Leo, and he's too short."

"Who has enough 'oomph', sir?"

"CJ."

"You can't have CJ, Mr. President."

"Well, here we are, then."

"Sir," Josh started hesitantly. "Maybe you don't need to appoint a new Press Secretary yet, if this is more a question of the message getting out."

"We don't need all the Communications assistants right now," Sam realized. "There aren't any big speeches coming up. They can help handle the volume. We'll still have to meet to make sure we're using the same language, or have just one person doing the briefings." 

"I think that would work," Carol said tentatively. 

"Carol, I think part of what happened yesterday was that we were all really busy and I wasn't planning on doing that briefing. Maybe I can do the afternoon one? And Sam will make sure we know the language?"

"Don't mess it up," Toby said when they looked to him.

"Afternoon?" Josh fussed. 

"Shh, we can still have lunch, and morning is when I do most of the stuff anyway."

"Okay," the President said before they could continue going off topic. "Thanks, everyone. And I'll bring up a Press Secretary when I'm ready to and not before, is that clear?"

"Thank you, sir," they responded, getting up awkwardly.

* * *

He touched the doorknob, very lightly, not knowing what he meant to do if he ever gathered the courage to take it firmly and turn it. Would he open the door and step in, to the place either so sacrosanct or so abhorred only the cleaning crews had been inside it for the past six weeks? Or would he, at the last, hesitate and close the door, leaving this sanctuary and veritable shrine in peace?

At least he needn't worry about the goldfish, swimming merrily on a desk nearby. He shifted and ran his fingers over the gleaming knob again, thinking of how the wood looked a bit like her hair, how the metal gleamed as her eyes had flared annoyance or humor.

What would have happened had he been there? Nothing was worth coming back to this.

A woman cleared her throat nearby.

Danny jumped and turned around, hand over his chest, and met the eyes of someone he knew.

"Danny?" Carol queried.

"Carol. Um... hi."

"You're probably not supposed to be back here, you know," she told him, tilting her head and smiling gently.

"They can come kick me out now. I was just-" he gestured to the door.

Sadness spread across the woman's features. "Yeah. I've ducked inside a few times and so has Sam to get something we needed, and to get her fish, but otherwise, that door's been closed since... the... you know, since the thing." She looked down as though ashamed of bringing it up so directly. 

"Yeah," Danny said quietly. He poked a finger into Gail's bowl, stirring the water around for a while. When he looked up, Carol was still standing there, regarding him. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here, when it..."

She was already shaking her head. "It's okay. You wouldn't have wanted to be here the first few days. That's off the record," she added sternly.

"Believe me, I'm so off the record right now you can't even see the record," he assured her solemnly. "But I still feel, I don't know, like there was something I didn't do."

"She understood," CJ's former assistant told him. "Um, actually, she left a couple of things for you," she said, reaching into a drawer. "Just a second... this is a little disorganized."

"Yeah, I've been watching the briefings. The day of the New Hampshire primary-"

"Um, yeah, that was fun."

"It's been a lot better since then, though. Josh and Donna going at it?" 

Carol looked up and gave him a mock glare, as he returned her look with a faint smirk. "At least they're doing some of the other things an old married couple does now," she grumbled. 

"Okay, that was more than I wanted to know." 

"That's possible with a reporter?"

"I'm not here as a reporter." He stuck his hands in his pockets as Carol finally retrieved an envelope from a far recess of her desk. 

"I kind of figured," she told him, holding out the envelope. "If you haven't been there, one of us can take you there when you're done with this. Or whenever. Are you coming back to the room?"

"I don't know," he answered, fiddling with the edges as he took the envelope from her hands. "I might come back next week. I just may need some time."

"Hey, Danny," Josh said quietly as he poked his head around the corner.

"Hi, Josh."

"How ya doing?" Danny lifted the envelope in reply. "Yeah, sorry... stupid question. Carol, Donna asked me to ask you if you could do this briefing and she'd put the lid on this evening..."

"Sure. Unless it's because you're going out on a date."

"Oh, no. Far from it. Imports from Asia."

"Oh, ouch. She'll need to come by for my notes, though."

"Thank you." Josh disappeared back around the corner.

"He looks kinda happy," Danny remarked with suspicion.

"Donna's good for his stress level," Carol shrugged.

He raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Carol, I couldn't help but notice that after a week or so, the White House suddenly started knocking its opponents down like bowling pins as soon as they showed themselves, and you've somehow managed to get at least eighty-five percent of women's groups and religious organizations to back you..." 

"We're in the game," she told him, straightening a little.

"Why?"

"Look at your stuff," she responded. "I've got a thing. There's fish food there for Gail if you want to feed her."

After she left and he'd fed Gail, Danny carefully opened the envelope, a tape and several papers falling into his hands. He eyed them, then pulled his cassette player out of his pocket.

"You're amazing," he whispered half an hour later, slipping everything back into the envelope. "You were one amazing woman, CJ. I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you..."

"Danny?" a surprised male voice inquired. Danny looked up.

"Hey, Sam." 

"Hey."

"I was just, you know, the thing... um, I'll go now," he offered, buttoning his coat. 

"You're crying," Sam advised him gently. Danny dabbed at his cheeks in surprise and then pulled out a handkerchief. 

"Sorry."

"No, no, please... do you want to come to my office and sit down?"

"No, thanks. I really should be going."

"Danny," Sam stopped him. "Don't go alone."

He stopped his bustling and met Sam's gaze. "No, I was just going to go home and listen to my police scanner."

"It's a quiet day," Sam said with a soft smile. "There's more encouraging things to do than listen to your police scanner."

"Yeah." Danny finished pulling his gloves on and looked at the senior staffer. "I just wanted to think about her someplace not here." 

"Okay. But when you're ready, I know she wanted you to meet her girls."

"Are they cute?"

"Very." Sam smiled warmly.

"Okay. Just... not today. And I'll say something when I'm ready to go to the other place." Sam nodded and stepped back, watching Danny as he went down the hallway, head bent.

* * *

"I just can't get over these two." Sam shut a cupboard door and opened the next one, searching for the bibs. "I had no idea babies could be so enchanting."

"You find drool enchanting?" his companion asked disbelievingly.

"A little bit, when it's these girls. It's like they're my daughters... if I had a daughter, I think I'd find her drool cute." Sam closed that cupboard in exasperation. "Where is it? Anyway, they're cute. And enchanting."

"Please tell me you don't find diaper-changing enchanting and cute," the other almost begged, eyes huge.

"No. Oh, no. Of course not. Where are those bibs?"

"These?"

Sam turned around and finally faced his companion, who stood with a smug grin, holding out a bib in each hand. "Oh. Yeah."

"About time you noticed I was in the room, buster," his boss's daughter admonished, reluctantly handing them over.

"Sorry. You were temporarily outshone by two little women." Sam suspected he had quite a goofy grin on his face right now.

"You look like an idiot," Mallory remarked severely. "But I'm glad you were thinking about Sam and Abigail instead of me." 

"Really? Because I kind of asked you to come over because I have no idea what I'm doing, and-"

"Shut up," she directed, hand on his arm, as they looked down at the two little girls. Sam tucked her fist into her sister's outfit, and Abigail waved one hand in the air. "I'm glad because if you ever managed to pull yourself away from your 24/7 job at the White House and go out with me, and we had a relationship and got married, I'd want you to pay that kind of attention to any child we could have. Not that we're going to do any of that, but that's what I expect from a father," she added sternly, looking up at him sternly from underneath her brows. "And all of us together have to be what CJ would have been."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, leaning against her and kissing her hair, very lightly. "Can I try that?" he murmured.

"Try what?"

"The dating thing."

"I'm available, but given your track record..." she started, turning to him with one hand on her hip.

"Can we take care of them and then argue?" Sam requested, smiling faintly.

"Sure."

"Thank you for coming over," Sam added, almost shyly, as he gently scooped one up. "I hope you're hungry," he advised her. Samantha just blinked at him.

* * *

Toby turned the folder over lightly in his hands, puzzled. He thought they'd sorted through everything, but he didn't recognize this. Wrinkling his brow and turning it over and over, he thought about asking Sam where it was from, but remembered that Sam was in a meeting expected to last most of the afternoon.

He sat down and opened the brown flaps, tugging a little when he found them stuck together. The pages were neatly organized, but without anything resembling an index or a table of contents.

Wait, what's this?

Toby separated one of the front pages from its fellows and read it.

He could literally feel the blood pounding through his veins, his pulse points in forehead, neck, wrists. He could feel adrenaline pour sudden fire into him, as it looked to fly... or to fight.

This would be a fight.

Brown eyes suddenly ablaze, Toby pulled everything else out of the envelope. Bar graphs. Pie graphs. Age distribution. Approval trackings. Profiles. Summaries.

He'd found CJ's cause of death.

Fingers brushed reverently across a neat summary, clipped to the front of the widest-ranging of the polls. He glanced down it, already suspecting what it would say, and looked at the date. September 30. Within less than four weeks of finding out she was carrying twins and that she could die at their birth, CJ had not only quietly arranged to have a poll put in the field but had multiple polls put in the field, and even managed a final, cumulative poll.

The results were pretty clear, and were not skewed along party lines. Nearly half of left-leaning voters surveyed had felt that, given the President's announcement of having multiple sclerosis and the subsequent investigations into the White House, a terminated pregnancy would be an attempt to cover up an affair.

He flushed furiously. Had CJ chosen option B, eighty percent of those surveyed would have considered her to have inappropriate morals and be unfit to speak for a Catholic President.

Instead, now, over eighty percent of the country considered CJ a symbol, a heroine, a tragic consequence to inadequate attention.

And all it had taken was a lockdown, tempting fate, blood in the carpet, two adorable, squalling babies, and a pale, beautiful gravestone a few miles away.

_Smash._ Without even thinking about it, Toby had flung one of his rubber balls into a TV set. He glanced carelessly at the chaos, then continued flipping through the pages.

Their inclination to support already diminished by a sin of omission, a huge majority defining themselves as Christian would have swung their support away from President Bartlet.

There were even comparisons on how respondents felt they might have answered had President Bartlet not also been a multiple sclerosis patient.

Had it not been for that single factor, he wouldn't have had a chance to see those two beautiful little women, but he would still have CJ. How could he possibly weigh which one he truly wanted?

CJ had chosen against a thirty-five percent chance of completely destroying not only her own political name, but his _and_ Sam's, and a depressingly high, although lower, likelihood of guaranteeing none of the senior staff could show their faces in national politics ever again.

Reputation. Instead, it was only one of them. But she had cared what it looked like... and this would have been, indeed, something bad for all of them.

Sam's career had been at the greatest risk. The public hadn't read too much into it, or perhaps had been possessed of enough tact not to inquire, but they had noted the increased closeness between CJ and Sam in the weeks following her release from the hospital, and it had played a role, to the shattering tune of sixty-five percent.

Toby, with agonizing control, put all the papers back where they had been, neatly, and then bellowed. "Ginger! I need Joey Lucas, and tell Sam to get his ass in my office!"

Ginger's eyes went a little wide; understandably, since this was more than the usual Toby Ziegler darkened mood, but she nodded. "Right."

Toby clenched the folder between his hands, completely the opposite of the way he had handled it so lightly before he opened it, and waited for the phone or his deputy.

Neither conversation was going to be pretty.

* * *

"We're at work, Josh," Donna hissed.

"We're in my office. Nobody's going to walk in," he whispered back, tangling his hands gently in her hair. She shook her head a little. "Donna... this is what it's gonna be like; we don't have time for dates."

"We do, you just need to learn to shut off your cell phone," she whispered in annoyance. Josh brushed one hand against her ear, bringing it down to caress her arm, and she finally sighed. "Okay, but if someone walks in, you're seducing me and I'm just an innocent bystander."

"Nobody wants to walk into my office, it's a wreck," he said, smirking very faintly. She touched his dimples lightly.

"You might want to rethink that, mister."

"Okay, okay, it would be a wreck but for my lovely assistant, who is also my girlfriend."

"I think we're too good for girlfriend/boyfriend," she retorted, laying both hands against his chest.

"I love you," he said, smiling fully. 

"I love you too," she said, wrapping her arms around him and running her hands up to the back of his head.

Josh was good at more than kissing, so when there was a sudden knock on the door, followed by it opening, a few minutes later, they were both effectively at the making-out stage, hands in each other's shirts. 

Donna was _so_ glad it was Toby and not a reporter. She and Josh pulled back, blushing, and Josh started to stammer something.

"I don't care," Toby declared. "You're both coming with me."

"What happened?" Josh asked as he tried to calm himself long enough to pull his suit jacket on and button it.

"I have a thing, and you're all going to hear about it at once." With that, he turned and stalked down the hall toward the Oval Office.

"Nice lack of interruption," Donna snarked at Josh as she picked up her notes for the day.

"Um, yeah, I'm blaming Toby," he muttered, glancing down the hallway with a wrinkled brow. "Come on."

"I'm coming," she exclaimed, smoothing her own shirt one last time, then glancing up as Carol came down the hall. "Did he tell you what was going on?"

"No, he was pretty grumpy." Carol sighed and dropped in behind them. 

A few minutes later, Toby gestured around wildly with a brown folder in the Oval. "How many of you knew about this? Why was I not told? Did I miss something? Am I still the communications director? Perhaps one of you can enlighten me! Sam?"

Sam looked at him, spirits visibly sinking. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked quietly.

"That depends, Sam," Toby responded, his face turning into that dangerous almost-smile, "on what it is."

"Is it the thing CJ had done?"

"Lucky guess, Sam! Or perhaps, it's not such a lucky guess at all!" Toby exploded. "Is it possible that you knew about this, even endorsed it! I can't possibly think of why you would, but isn't there a tiny little chance that you helped CJ do this!"

"Yeah."

Toby turned back to face his deputy, jaw dropping. Sam had leaned back against the back of the couch with an expression of utter despair. "Yes?" he asked, dangerously.

"Excuse me, fellas," the President interrupted. "Sam? Is that the thing you told me about?"

"You told the President?" Toby burst out again before Sam had a chance to reply.

"Yes, sir, it is, and yeah, Toby, I did, but not until after she was dead! The President had no more idea than you did until the day after CJ died that she'd done it to save this White House!" Sam shouted, having reached his own explosion point. "CJ told me, I helped her set it up, I don't think anyone else knew, or knows, although the way you're shouting it's possible the entire DC area is aware by now!"

Toby shuffled in place a little, as Carol raised a tentative hand, a habit she'd thought she'd managed to break in the first couple of weeks. "I knew," she put in softly. "I placed some of the calls, but CJ didn't tell me very much." 

"What, wait, what?" Josh requested incoherently. 

"Yeah, I'm with Josh," Leo added. "What the hell, you guys?"

Donna rubbed Josh's back, sensing his rising tension, but didn't say anything.

"Sam, I hate to put all of this on you, but you told me very little and Toby's about to burst an artery, so why don't you take over?" the President asked. Sam nodded mutely and stepped forward, holding out his hand and touching the object in Toby's hand.

Toby practically growled as he handed it over. Sam ducked his head, wondering if he'd still have a job, or even be in one piece, by the time this meeting was finished. He opened the envelope carefully and smoothed down the front page.

"CJ had polling done last September," he began quietly, and Leo leaned forward, straining to hear him. "She found out in early September she was carrying twins--remember when she told us?--and found out at the same time that she was at high risk for complications from the birth. I, uh... I can't always remember what it was. I know her obstetrician told me later CJ could have died regardless when the twins were born."

Josh started to stand up, rumblings of anger on his face. "What are-" he started. Sam shook his head slowly.

"Josh, please, let me finish. I don't think I can--I don't think I can do this much longer." Sam carefully pulled out the final topsheet results. "CJ came to me and asked me for the names of some discreet lawyers who could help her with custody and wills, and I became concerned and asked her what was wrong, and she eventually told me. She'd already started working on the strategy box. I had to make her go home a couple of times... we all know how determined CJ was, but I don't remember ever seeing her this determined, or this stressed about the possibility she wouldn't finish something." He took a deep breath. "But after she told me there might be problems, she also came to me and wanted to do at least one poll, very quietly. We went to Joey Lucas in California, and she was able to get some polling done in short order, and the results were surprising, so some more polls were done in September." He ran his fingers across the sheet, and finally lifted his eyes to Toby's. "It was never meant to be found, but since you found it and we're here, I'm assuming you know why CJ did what she did."

"Well, the rest of us haven't seen it, so if one of you could enlighten us," Leo started. The President shook his head.

"Is that the poll that says an abortion would have cost the political careers of over half my senior staff, Sam?"

"Yes, sir." Sam closed the folder and lay the single piece of paper on top of it, then offered it to him.

"She what!" Josh, Donna, and Leo demanded at the same time. Carol just closed her eyes.

"CJ. Died. Because. Of. A. Poll," Toby supplied, glaring at Sam the entire time. "I should beat you to a bloody pulp, Sam. I should tear you to shreds, I should do other, unmentionable things, and then do them again. What was the matter with you, not to talk CJ out of this piece of insanity?"

"She didn't die because of a poll, or polls, or any poll," Sam replied with heat. "CJ died because she was assaulted and became pregnant with twins and those two factors plus her age and height and I don't know what else left her at high risk for what CJ called placenta previa on steroids when she was too tired to think straight; for exchanging her own life for that of her two daughters' lives. She made the choice, dammit! Don't you think I tried? We spent hours arguing. Remember I was the one who didn't want to treat CJ like a political object, a piece of capital, a strategy? She CHOSE it! CJ's choice! It wasn't ours! It was hers, to place a value on this President and his continued Presidency that overrode her own! She believed in this President, Toby, and to that end she made sure that her death would not destroy us! So what, exactly, are you trying to do again?" Sam was breathing hard, fists clenched, and they were all staring at him. He could feel dampness on his face and thought it was sweat, until he slowly unclenched one fist and reached up a hand to wipe it away. 

He was crying in the Oval Office.

Toby's lips were parted, as though he was trying to find something to say, but no words came out. Leo slumped wearily in his chair, and Donna had one arm wrapped around Josh in a fashion that was definitely protective. 

The two writers sat down across from each other with a thump and bent their heads. Toby looked up first. "I don't think I'll ever get over her..." he trailed off. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just... I brought her on board. She was our CJ. I..." he shook his head, finally, and closed his eyes. Sam reached over and took Toby's hand lightly in his, nodding.

The President opened the folder and flipped through the pages. "I'd like to go over this."

"Sir, I hate to be political, but you shouldn't even be touching that. I'll go over it," Leo requested. The President glowered for a minute, then closed the folder and handed it over to his friend.

"Josh?" Donna murmured. She was shocked herself, but worried Josh hadn't said anything. He finally looked up at her, and she smiled a little, relieved at the awareness in his brown eyes. "You okay?" 

"I was just--" he paused. "I was thinking about when I apologized to CJ. And I was thinking about something you said, sir," he told the President, "and I was thinking about all these women who are," he squeezed Donna's arm, "so very strong and witty and beautiful."

Carol and Donna looked at each and smiled in concert. "Amy against Mary Marsh," Carol supplied. "And Ainsley beat Sam up on TV." Sam looked up and smiled crookedly.

"Mallory," he contributed. 

"Andi," Toby murmured.

"Samantha and Abigail," Donna offered.

The President and Leo began to smile, as they remembered what thing the President had said Josh was referring to.

"Zoey," Josh said softly. "And Ellie and Liz. And the First Lady."

"Carol," Leo offered. She started in surprise.

"Donna," the President added softly. "Josh, what was it I said?" 

"Actually, I think it may have been Leo... but it was when you made us eat chili, and I came up to ask you about the NSC card, and you said you couldn't get over these women." Josh laced his fingers together and took a deep breath as he looked around the room.

"That's right, Josh," the President responded warmly. "We can't get over these women. But you know what else we can't get over?" He stood, and they scrambled up in response. "Leo and I, we just can't get over you young people. You're like sons and daughters to us, and that's what can make this administration work." He looked around at each of them in turn. "We've been making everyone in the country second-guess themselves with this weird back in the game but not back in the game unless you really look thing the past several weeks. Let's get back to normal, shall we?"


	21. Of Setting The Bar So Low

_Of Setting The Bar So Low, I Can Hardly Look At It_

"When we gave this to CJ, I never dreamed I'd be using it instead."

Leo turned around blankly and stared for a second. "Oh," he finally registered. "Yeah." He trailed a hand along the top, coming to look at the two peaceful faces.

"I mean, I knew we were going to be fathers," Josh said with a reverent awe and sadness. "I knew we were going to be using them, just not instead." He bowed his head over the twins before looking over at Leo. "We're not ready for this." 

"You're never ready," Leo remarked. "You just hope they come out in one piece and that you've got enough people around you to-what are you making a face at?"

"I was talking about reelection."

A pause.

"Josh, I pity anyone trying to have a conversation with you."

"Yeah." He found himself smiling a little. "Sorry about that. But I meant Ritchie. I'm not sure we're ready for this kind of election." 

"What do you mean?" Leo gestured for them to step back from the crib and led the way to the next room. "He's a Florida Republican with one-liners, Josh. What do you want from me?" 

"He's appealing to the lowest instead of the highest. He's the opposite of the real thing, the opposite of the President. I'm not even sure they can be in the same room together without the end of the world coming." Josh halted, horrified at his own words. "No, I misspoke, because we already had our own personal end of the world, and came out of it."

"Yeah." Leo gazed at Josh from the depths of an armchair. "So, Josh, what do you want from me?"

"We've got to cream him so thoroughly that the public will never again consider voting for someone that stupid."

"Josh, so help me, if you say that in the Oval Office..."

"I'll ask Donna to polish it up for me." Josh's pause was eloquent and he could feel himself turning scarlet. "I mean, that is, I'll, you know, just not say anything..."

"We let you work for the President?"

"Sorry."

"You know, Josh," Leo said, leaning forward a little, "I said something to the President during the first campaign about being tired of the bar being set so low for the highest office in the nation."

"Can I say that?" Josh asked.

"No." 

"Then why did you-"

"I agree with you." Leo leaned back again and lifted a hand to his chin. "CJ said we were going to have to meet expectations."

"But they're so low that-"

"She didn't say whose, Josh, she said we'd have to meet them. And she said that sometimes politics, like school, is about raising your hand and asking the question instead of sitting quietly in your seat, being afraid to learn or be laughed at or whatever it is with that particular person."

"You want us to apply the broader theme to the election?" Josh's brow wrinkled up in amazed confusion. "Leo, that's for, I don't know, education reform, appealing to everyone without being stupid-" he stopped. "Oh. Yeah." 

"Thank you," his boss responded dryly. "I'm going home. You're staying up here tonight?"

"Yeah, I drew the short straw," Josh revealed, trying not to smirk. 

"You look too happy for it to have been a short straw." 

"Yeah, yeah, it's my turn," Josh grinned openly. 

"Good night. Try not to break anything."

After Leo left, Josh went back to the crib and stood there, gazing down at the two infants, thinking.

As dawn glimmered its way into the room, Josh looked up and smiled.

"Setting the bar so low," he murmured. "Expectations. Thanks, you two." He bent and kissed them gently.

* * *

"I've been told," Toby said gravely, "that you want to say something about land mines."

The Poet Laureate looked over at him, her hair flying a little about her face in the wind. "Yeah, I want to talk about land mines. They're horrible things, Toby. Children step on them and-"

"I know what land mines can do," Toby stopped her with a raised hand. "I know what they can do," he repeated.

"Okay." She glanced aside in a gesture reminding Toby of Andi. "Yet you came here with the intention of telling me I can't speak my mind." 

"Tabitha, if you talk about this now, it will be the story."

"I want it to be the story!"

"And then it won't go anywhere."

"How do you know?" 

"This is what I do, that's why. You write poetry, I'm a political operative."

"Hey, it's good poetry," she objected.

"And actually, that's not why I came here," he continued. "I came here to tell you that there are definitely chances for you to speak your mind, although perhaps more subtly than you want, on this subject."

"Just not now." It was both question and disappointment.

"Right." He dug around in a pocket briefly before coming up with a piece of paper. "Here's some information on organizations you could support and places you could speak out on this. And I agree with you. We need to not have land mines. But there's a lot of things we need to not have." He pressed it into her hand and stood. "Thank you. I'll see you later."

"Excuse me," she protested, rising indignantly. "That's it? You're so rushed that I get, what was that, four minutes?"

"About five minutes, and yes, I'm a little busy right now. We're running for reelection and I'm doing seventy-five percent more than my normal job at the White House, which was originally about one hundred percent more than most sane people consider to be a job."

"Okay." She frowned. "I get five minutes because one of your colleagues died?"

"You get five minutes because this is the big leagues and this is an election year, and yes, because someone died, and she wasn't a colleague, she was a friend. I have to get back." He turned away again.

"Whoa." He turned about again, glowering now. "A friend?"

He came back and stood right in front of her. "Yes. And if you can write a poem in the next three hours that I feel does justice to her, then you can speak on land mines now. Otherwise, please stop bothering me. It's a worthy cause and I understand, but you can't talk about it right now." With that, he turned around with finality and walked away, leaving her staring after him.

Nine hours later, she gave up on the poem. Toby was right, and so she reached for the paper he had given her and started looking at it with real interest.

* * *

In early April, Carol Fitzpatrick stood icily at the podium as she was asked if she was outraged over the girls who had died in a fire in Saudi Arabia.

"I'm barely surprised," she remarked at the end of what was, for her, a scathing diatribe, and Danny, who had reluctantly returned to the press room, noted that for all the fire in her voice, her eyes had been sad, not sardonic or angry, as he knew they could be. This was another reflection of violence, and so Danny wrote it, ignoring the protests of his editor. 

He was affirmed in his decision when Donna got up later in the day and made similar remarks, all but coming out and saying the hate mail had already begun pouring into both their inboxes.

They could have used the hate mail, but they didn't. Curious, Danny wandered back to Carol's office the next day and asked her about it. 

"Been getting hate mail?"

"Close the notebook."

"It's closed."

"Really?" She turned around and studied him. "This is off the record?" 

"I'm just curious." He leaned against the doorway and she watched his eyes grow sorrowful as they traveled around and fixed on CJ's door. "I wonder how much she'd be getting now." 

"A lot more," Carol answered firmly, turning back to her computer for a moment. "I was nice."

"You scorched their ears off," he said, almost laughing.

"Yeah, I'm getting it."

"Why aren't you doing anything with it?"

"I'm giving it to the Secret Service, and they don't discuss procedures."

"I mean, you could use it against them."

"Danny." She sighed and gave him her full focus. "One. That'd be giving them more attention, which is the last thing they need. Two. I'd be letting them know it actually got here and possibly bothered me, which is the last thing they need. And three. It's not what CJ would have done, and it's not what we want."

"Yeah, okay," he sighed after a minute. "Are any of them serious?"

"Why do we let you back here?" she asked, getting up out of her chair as though to shoo him away.

"You like me."

"Maybe I don't."

"Let me be here," he begged, suddenly sobering and touching her shoulder.

She looked up at him. "If that's what it takes. But you have to see the twins first."

"Aww, c'mon..."

"Danny, they're almost three months old and very cute. And you can't spend much time back here."

"How does Donna feel?" 

"About the mail? The same way," she answered his nod.

"But she's got Josh."

"Danny, I think if she could she'd forgive you."

"Yeah, but she can't, and I've got a guilty conscience, so here I am." 

"Reporters can have guilty consciences?"

"Yes." 

She wanted to roll her eyes, but couldn't in the face of Danny's obvious guilt. "You don't get to hear what Josh thinks of the mail. Come on up to the Residence and see them." She pulled his arm gently.

"So when are they getting married?" he inquired innocently. She laughed.

"You get to find out when the rest of us do. Come on."

"I hear things about the President's youngest daughter and a certain--" 

"Ah-ah," she cut him off. "We're off the record. And we don't talk about the personal lives of our staff." 

"I'm not here as a reporter; I want to be a friend." 

Carol pulled up short at a doorway and turned around. "You can't be," she told him.

"I want to." 

"Danny," she shook her head. "You're forgetting some things. This is going to throw away your job and possibly other jobs, and while we all like you too, we'd rather have you as a reporter who's a friend to this administration, not a friend to us personally."

He drew back and looked down. "Yeah. I know. I was just-you know..."

"I know." She turned back. "Come on. They might be awake now."

"Who pulled daddy duty?"

Carol chuckled softly. "Toby's got them for a while today. We've got to work something out eventually; they're not quite old enough yet that we want to bring them into the West Wing."

"Yeah. They're cute?" 

"Very."

* * *

"What is this?" Sam asked a couple of weeks later, turning the package over in his hands.

"I don't know," Ginger replied, raising pale eyebrows as if to ask him when he thought she had time to go get X-ray vision.

"A tape," he mused, pulling it out. "Okay. I'm pretty tired, but I'm just going to-" he started backing toward his office "-go watch this."

"Watch out for the moose." 

He jumped and turned, looked, then turned back. Ginger just smirked at him and continued working. "Thanks," he griped at her. "I already had a permanent fear of moose."

"Glad to help out." Sam muttered something under his breath and went into his office.

Five minutes later, he came out, looking upset. "I need Bruno."

As if via relay, Bruno and then the regular senior staff trickled through Communications and then downstairs.

"Jed Bartlet. What's he hiding from us now?" the voice on the ad demanded.

"Burn it," Donna suggested immediately.

"We don't have it, we've never seen it," Bruno said. "Put it in a drawer and forget about it, Sam."

Sam had been staring angrily at them; he jumped up now and said, "No. I want to meet with Kevin Kahn and give it back."

"You're out of your mind," Toby said, voice approaching a shout.

"Carol," Bruno directed, "could you tell Sam why it would be bad to give it back?"

"Bait," she answered, not even looking up.

Sam looked around again and suddenly deflated. "Okay. Burning or a drawer?" he asked.

"A big, full drawer," Josh directed.

As they broke up and started to go upstairs, Josh went over to Sam. "What was with you?" 

"Huh?"

"I thought we were going to have to spend another half hour arguing you down from giving it back. What's with you?"

Sam looked at him, blue eyes disturbed. "You're not going to believe it."

"You were remembering Mallory and then her dad would yell at you and be right?"

"No."

"Well?" 

"You're not going to believe it," Sam repeated, staring toward a corner of the room. Josh slowly rotated his head to look that way, then looked back.

"Earth to Sam." 

He blinked and rubbed his eyes, then turned around and picked up his suit jacket. "I thought I saw CJ over there," he whispered. Josh's eyes grew huge.

"You're right. Yet for some reason, I don't think you're crazy," he confessed as they went up the stairs.

Thus did the Ritchie campaign lose another chance to gain ground.

* * *

"I just told Charlie to start looking for a new Executive Secretary," the President told Leo a couple of weeks later, apparently at random.

"Hmm?" Leo looked up with an absentminded expression.

"A new Executive Secretary," his leader prodded.

"Oh. That's excellent, sir."

"I suppose sometime," he continued slowly, "I'll have to name a new Press Secretary too." 

"When you're ready, Mr. President, but we've been managing all right," Leo told him after a minute of eloquent silence.

"I don't want whoever it is to use the office." 

"Absolutely, sir."

"Charlie went out with Zoey last night," he groused, apropo of absolutely nothing. Leo smirked broadly, as he had years before. The President shook his head at him. "Mallory and Sam?" he asked, smirking a little himself.

"Mr. President," Leo grumbled.

"Josh and Donna are adorable."

"Sir."

"You don't want to talk about weddings and romance, Leo?"

"No, sir. I came in here for something else."

The President considered his friend's expression and mulled over what had been occurring recently and put it together with upcoming events. "They cancelled?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any idea why?"

"It's possible they're pissed about the base," Leo confessed, leaning on the desk a little. 

"Possible?" Jed tossed off.

"Okay, they're pissed about the base."

"Are they pissed at me, or at the country?" the President asked, voice lowered. 

"Mostly at you, but this is Qumar we're discussing, so really-"

"Yeah." He stewed for a minute. "Don't they have anything better to do with their time than get pissed at us?"

"They're setting the bar pretty low, sir, I have to admit." Leo straightened. "Anyway, I thought you should know, and also we've revised your campaign stop schedule accordingly."

"Okay. Thank you, Leo."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Slowly the President's gaze turned to a ten-page memo that had been sitting on his desk for almost four months. The edges were turned up, as though he had flipped through it again and again, not reading it.

He'd read it once a week, actually. Slowly, he reached for it again and flipped two pages until he reached a certain section, and read it, lips moving as he murmured the words.

* * *

"The Ritchie campaign said WHAT?"

"They said that you and Donna have been having an affair since the first campaign," Sam supplied reluctantly.

"They can shove it up their--Leo, can I go tell them to shove it up their asses?"

"No," Leo replied definitively. "Absolutely not. We strike back on this visibly and we lose." 

"If they feel free to make those kinds of attacks, then we'll lose anyway! Leo, come on!" Josh bounced a little as he begged to be let off the proverbial leash.

"If we respond to them, we give them more to use against us. Right now, we have better press with the young people of this country than any President in recent memory. We have the twins. We have the two of you, we have Sam and Mallory, and we have Zoey and Charlie," Toby shut him down. "We're going to very casually do some photo ops emphasizing how nauseatingly cute all of you are, and we are not going to respond directly in any way, shape, or form."

"Yeah, we're going to do what Toby just said, except for the part about Sam and Mallory," Leo said, smirking a little at the younger man. 

Sam held his hands up. "She's cuter than I am?" 

Carol gave him a wry glance. "Um, yeah. I'm going to need something a little more than cute pictures for the press briefings, unfortunately."

"Remind them that this is an attraction which postdates Josh hiring Donna."

"Also that this is a happier White House with the two of them dating." 

"Perhaps that this is the modern age and it's really none of their business if there's sex involved?" Stares. "No, then?"

"Um, yeah, that's a no."

"I just want to add that this is really low," Sam noted.

"Yeah." 

"Below the belt, even."

"Shut up." 

"Guys... I agree, but we're going to have more of the same before November, so we're going to have to get used to it." Leo sighed and looked at all of them, then frowned.

"We're here to raise the level, not lower it," Toby contributed.

"We are, Toby, and if you can find a way to raise the level on this, then do it, but I don't want it coming back to me in any way, shape or form."

"Okay." Leo waved them away as Toby nodded at him and sat back down.

The clamor of rumor increased as the convention approached, and the number of shouting matches in offices had increased along with it. Leo had rounded a corner one day to find Carol, who never yelled, shouting at an intern.

"Go fix it," she finished abruptly upon seeing him, blushing.

"What was that about?"

She shook her head. "You know, I'm not even sure."

Leo stood in front of her desk. "If you want to move, all you have to do is say so." She looked over at him, then back at the door. 

"I find it kind of comforting, actually," she admitted after a minute. "When I've just come out of a tough briefing or I don't know what to do, I lean on the door for a while." 

"Okay. What's going on?"

She sighed deeply. "We have too many couples and not enough marriages." 

"Don't mention that to the couples in question." 

"Yeah, but the press likes a good wedding or even an engagement."

"We'll get them when they get them, and considering that two of the three couples involve daughters of, you know, powerful men, that could be a long time in coming." To his surprise, she responded with a small smirk.

"I can play up the Zoey and Charlie relationship, if it might help," she offered. "Because of the shooting, there's a lot more sympathetic interest there."

"Quietly, will you?" 

"I don't think the President will notice."

"He's pretty busy, but don't underestimate his powers of deductive reasoning," he warned her dryly.

* * *

Donna found Josh backstage at the Democratic convention, leaning against a wall, forehead all wrinkled. She warily shifted Abigail against one hip and approached. "Josh?"

"Donna," he smiled, stepping away from the wall to give her a kiss and touch the baby's nose with one finger. "Which one is this?" 

"Abigail."

"Can I hold her?" 

"Not now. They need you back."

"And you came to tell me that with a baby on your arm?"

"Yes." 

"Okay." He followed her back to a warren of offices, where she deposited Abigail back with her sister and they joined the insanity that Toby, Sam, and Carol were coordinating. 

"Where do you need us?" Josh called after a minute. 

"We don't," Sam said, looking up. "It's a lock; we've got--I don't know, about twenty thousand votes or something."

"Then why did you have Donna bring me back here?"

"We weren't sure when we sent her, and Abigail likes to be walked when she's being burped," Toby answered. "Sam, what are the basic marks of punctuation?" 

"It's a rough draft."

Carol snatched some paper from in front of Toby as Josh and Donna turned away.

"They don't need us," he murmured.

"Mmm," she replied.

"I need you."

"I need you, too," she came back. There was nothing flirty about the exchange; they might have been speaking as boss and assistant for all the passion present.

Josh sighed and took her hand gently, rubbing his fingers across hers. "I really need you," he repeated, using his other hand to cup her chin gently as he put his cheek on hers. Donna responded by wrapping her free arm around him, and accepted the way he leaned on her, just a little bit. They stood that way for a few minutes, until Josh sighed and slipped out of Donna's hold... in the downward direction.

"Josh?" she asked worriedly.

He still had one hand around one of hers, and now looked up with an expression she'd never seen before, a sort of wonder and realization. "I've been walking around with this for too long," he confessed. "But it's impossible for me to walk around without you for too long." He stopped to kiss her hand gently, and she felt warm metal against her palm just before he spoke again. "Please?"

"Say it," she managed, torn between smile and tears.

"Donnatella Moss, I love you, and will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

She nodded, giving in to both, as the circlet went around her finger. Josh stood and kissed her, then lifted her up in the air a little. "Victory is mine," he said gleefully. "Donna..." 

"Victory is ours," she corrected. "But there's other stuff first... the wedding, honeymoon, anniversaries, kids..." 

His eyes grew huge. "Whoa. You think ahead." 

"That's why you love me."

"I love you because you're Donna."

"Aww." She stood smiling at him, until they finally attracted the attention of the other staffers.

"Get a room," Toby called first. Carol stood up and approached with suspicious joy.

"Guys, is there something you want to share with us?"

Donna held up her hand. Carol jumped and grinned, and Sam let his eyes sparkle, and even Toby forgot what he was doing for a minute, until they heard the TV.

"My name is Josiah Bartlet, and I accept your nomination for the President of the United States!" 

"We still have the remarks up here!"

"Oh, God..."

"Talk about setting the bar low... oh, no..."

"I think he's got it, you guys," Josh murmured. "That's the end, and they're cheering."

"I quit," Toby moaned, and they laughed.


	22. They Came Through A Storm

_They Came Through A Storm_

"This is a time for American heroes, and we reached for the stars!" the President finished, voice swelling up to something more than his normal voice, and both lesser and greater than a shout. The crowd felt it too, as they stood and shouted, cheering and waving.

Donna, her left hand securely wrapped around Josh's wrist, came out of the field at that moment, dragging him along with her. Toby followed, muttering about the D-section. 

"If you had less trouble concealing your displeasure, you could have been watching instead of wandering in the fields with me," Josh told him.

"Ah, yes, but then I wouldn't have been able to see you be unnaturally gracious to a farmer." 

"Hey," she objected.

Josh turned. "Seriously, thank you for the tour, and... okay, I can't promise anything, but I'll really do my best."

"Our best." Donna kissed Josh's cheek and smiled. "We're going to miss the motorcade, you guys."

"Like those guys in, where was it, Tennessee?" Josh asked. She nodded, and he started pulling her along.

"Well done, sir," Donna told him as they came up.

"Thank you, Donna," the President responded, deliberately not looking in Toby's direction. Toby himself was wandering around the chairs a little bit, slowly making his way toward the motorcade. "Set a wedding date yet?"

"We were thinking Election Night, but we were afraid it might tempt the wrath of the whatever," Josh answered, absentmindedly putting one arm around Donna.

"From high atop the thing? Yeah, you don't want to do that. Well, let me know," he responded as Charlie came up. "Okay, let's go."

"We really should decide soon, Josh," Donna reminded as they followed the President and his shadows.

"So you have more than two destinations to pick from for a warm honeymoon?" he teased gently. She poked him in the ribs. "Ow!"

"It was just a little poke, you wimp," Donna laughed. "Before or after the election?"

"Are you coming?" 

"Of course."

"Then it doesn't matter." 

"Okay." She thought for a minute. "What about Thanksgiving?"

"I could see that," he admitted. "I have to admit, though," as they caught up with Toby and started getting in the car, "that for a while I'm still going to be thinking about the fact that at least this time last year, we still had her..."

Toby made that face that was more expressive than a grimace as he took his seat, declining to comment on their lovebird behavior or Josh's wistfulness.

"It's okay," she whispered. Some days she wondered, though, if any of them would ever be free of that feeling, whether it was pure grief or had some guilt mixed in with it. With all the guys, it was very plainly guilt, when they looked at the office or saw the twins for the first time on any particular day. Josh had wanted to be there. Sam should have done... whatever. Leo shouldn't have sent Toby. The President just generally told all of them it was on him... and who knew what Toby's particular brand of guilt was.

So why was she thinking about this now? Was it the look of hesitancy, half-concern and one part worry when Josh was talking about a day for the wedding?

"Josh," she started cautiously. "What is it?"

He caught her tone and directed his eyes to hers, lifting one hand and delicately touching her cheek. "I'm scared."

"Nothing to be scared of," she told him. "It's love, Josh." She watched him relax and was glad it had been the right thing to say. Some days, there was no right thing to say in the face of Josh's feeling he had failed, and she just had to tell him to sit up with the twins all night if he felt like it.

* * *

"Hold on!" Carol called suddenly through the surprising loudness of reporters leaving the room. She took something from an aide that had come to the door and went back up to the podium. "At 5:28 pm, Central time, two pipe bombs went off in the indoor swimming arena..." she blanched and steadied her voice. "There were swimmers in the water at the time... I'm going to give it to you as it comes in," she added, slipping the earpiece on. Reports were coming in terribly fast, and she needed updated information. They all did.

_Blood._ Carol grimly locked eyes with Danny and called on him.

"Do we know how many fatalities there were?"

"Not yet, but so far there's at least twenty."

"Donna, we've got to get ready for the thing soon," Josh said, coming to Toby's office door. She and Toby were both watching a set with somewhat dazed expressions. "Donna?"

She turned, face full of horror and pain, and pointed up and behind him. He turned and focused on the nearest set. "Why is Carol still at the-" he started. Her words had reached him, or someone had turned up the volume.

"We don't know who set them off yet..." Josh tilted his head up as Donna came up and wrapped her arms around him from behind, looking up at the same set with him. He felt a tiny wetness on his shoulder and turned a little. Donna managed a quivering smile back at him.

"I'll be all right," she assured him with a whisper. Behind them, Toby stood still in his own office, watching and realizing suddenly that this was the first time, via some miracle or some curse, that Carol had briefed so soon after an incident like this.

Leo watched and shivered, and thought about calling Mallory. He would feel silly about it later, knowing that she couldn't possibly have been there, but the reflex to protect was so very strong.

The President stood up as Charlie entered the room and gave him a message, and immediately reached back down, stroking two little, little girls on the head. Samantha babbled at him and Abigail grinned a little before he stood back up. "Get my daughters on the phone, please," he requested, closing his eyes.

Sam stood and considered; he had been weighing a draft of the President's speech for tonight in his head, and on the heels of this disaster, this attack, his mind was swiftly putting together something to fit the changed mood of the evening better.

"... they ran into the fire to help get people out," the President began wrapping up, lights bright and yet gentle on his face. "They ran into the fire. The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels tonight. They're our students and our teachers and our parents and our friends. The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels, but every time we think we've measured our capacity to meet a challenge, we look up and we're reminded that that capacity may well be limitless." His own face was tilted a little upward, making the light shine more goldenly on it, and those watching who knew him well realized that his eyes were shining far more than usual.

And if Donna thought she heard his strong speaking voice give way a little as he said 'they ran into the fire', or Leo saw the great breath he took before could say 'our friends', they understood the feeling underlying it, hoping it would be attributed to the effect the events of the day had on a President with three daughters rather than the real cause.

"This is a time for American heroes. We will do what is hard. We will achieve what is great," he crescendoed, taking the podium as part of himself and letting the belief run up from his heart and into his face and voice. "This is a time for American heroes, and we reach for the stars. God bless their memory. God bless you. And God bless the United States of America. Thank you."

Under the cover of shattering applause, Bruno stood to the side with Sam and inquired, "When'd you write that last part?"

"In the car," Sam responded, unashamed of his wet eyes.

"Freak," Bruno returned, and Sam smiled, just a little.

"Are you insulting my boyfriend, Bruno?" Mallory casually inquired, coming up silently.

"I'm your boyfriend?" Sam asked first.

"That was a compliment," Bruno said dryly. "And get a room."

Mallory laughed, giving Sam an annoyed look as she did so, and gestured. He took her arm gently. "I'm scared of your dad."

"I can see how that would be a problem for you."

"I'm enjoying the results of the speech."

"It was a beautiful speech."

"Thank you." He let his eyes fall to President Bartlet, still making his way out of the room via handshakes. "I wish sometimes that I could write for myself." 

"Deliver speeches?" Mallory clarified.

"Yeah. Sometimes I think... well, anyway." He turned back and smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

"Huh?" Toby asked blankly.

"Toby, I'm pregnant," Andrea Wyatt repeated.

"Who's pregnant?"

"Me! Toby, do you need a chart?" 

"That's... that's..." he tried to register the very unexpected news.

"Toby?"

"That's wonderful," he finally settled, still looking a little shell shocked.

"Really?"

"Andi, really, I'm just..."

"Overbowled? Overwhelmed? Shocked?" she pressed when he didn't continue immediately.

"Yes. All of those things, and many, many more."

"Okay... would you like some time for this one, or can I tell you the rest now?"

"There's more?"

"Yeah." 

"Okay," he agreed, placing one hand on his desk. 

"It's twins."

Well, she had wanted him to snap out of it and back to the real world, although perhaps not this strongly.

"Twins?" Toby suddenly looked frightened. "You're going to have twins?" His expression changed again, to anxiety, then anger mixed with guilt, and he finally settled on a look consisting mostly of worry and a face several shades paler than normal.

"Are you okay?" Andi inquired from his couch.

"No, I'm not okay!"

"Toby, they can't control how many they-"

"I know, Andi! But twins, now, after..." He trailed off again, despairingly. "One year ago, I was in the Oval with my fellow senior staffers, and one of them told me she was pregnant with twins. Four months after that, she was dead!"

Andi stood up, pain flickering across her own face in empathy with Toby. "I'm gonna be okay," she assured him softly.

"Promise me," he started. "No, because CJ told us she was fine."

"Come talk to the doctor," she invited, coming to stand before him and holding out her hands. "More daddy practice, Pokey," she teased gently. 

Toby slowly took her hands in his and looked up as he kissed each in turn. "I want to protect you," he confessed.

"I know, Toby," she sighed, finally giving in to her initial urge to sit on his lap. "I miss her too."

* * *

"Hi," the President cooed at one of his honorary granddaughters. She shoved a fist into his lower arm and unleashed a stream of baby talk at him. He looked over at Leo. "How did we get the half hour of spare time, and which one is which?" he inquired.

"Bribes, and you have Samantha," his friend replied, making delighted smiles at Abigail a few feet away. 

"Is that legal?"

"You're in the same room with these two for more than five minutes for the first time since they were less than a week old, what do you care?" 

"That's a good point. Oh, hi," he turned his attention back to Sam, who was trying to decide whether his fingers or his shirt tasted better. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him with big blue eyes and frowned a little. Jed made a silly face at her, and she waved one hand, smacking his. "Hey," he said happily.

"Grapa," Abigail said suddenly, gazing solemnly at Leo. She blinked very slowly a couple of times. 

"Did you just say 'Grandpa'?" Leo inquired with delight, suddenly looking younger.

Her mouth moved a little and he could see her trying to work the word out. "Granpa," she repeated, making a grab for his shirt.

Leo turned to Jed, an expression of amazement on his face, blinking with delight and a few tears. "She called me 'Grandpa,'" he told his old friend.

"I guess they have good memories," Jed answered, looking down at Sam with a grin. "I wonder if you're as smart as the man you're named after," he mused.

"Granpa," she responded, and looked from him to Leo with some confusion. 

"That's right, we're both your grandpas," he answered cheerfully. "We could have sold off the Sixth Fleet and I still wouldn't consider it too much for this," he told Leo. 

"Yeah, but I think it's all right that we skipped that part," Leo told him dryly.

"Grapa," the girls said in concert.

* * *

"Um," Donna started, and brushed her hair away from her face. She looked down awkwardly and tried to start again. "This has been... wonderful." She paused again when another gust came through, and dug into her purse for an elastic for her hair. When it was tied back and only a few strands were whipping across her face, she started again.

"I feel like I'm confessing," she said with an uneasy laugh, "even though I'm Protestant and we don't have confessions. I am so grateful to have had this chance. They are absolute miracles... this whole year has turned into a miracle, and I just hope the President gets reelected.

"I wonder if I need to turn around three times and spit now; Josh made me do that the other day." She fingered her engagement ring. "Thank you for the chance. We wouldn't have dared if we didn't have some idea how to respond to what was going to happen. He's almost nice and I haven't had to threaten to kick his butt for a couple of months now. Also, I get longer lunches sometimes, and once Sam and Toby rearranged his schedule for a whole week so we could go out for lunch and dinner by ourselves.

"I love them so much." She sniffled and lifted her head as another gust blew up, and looked across at the grass and scattered trees. "Samantha called me 'Mama' today... well, she couldn't quite say it, but she pointed at me and got most of the word out, so we're pretty sure that's what she meant. And Abigail called Josh 'Da' and then Josh told Toby he owed him ten bucks... I can't believe they bet about that, can you?" She bowed her head again and felt slow tears start to drip.

"I wonder if they would have called you 'Mama' by now... sometimes I wonder if you're even here at all, or if I really look like an idiot, because sometimes I feel like one. I know Toby comes out here sometimes and delivers a monologue, and on a weekend Sam or Josh will vanish for a couple of hours and come back all rumpled from the outdoors. The President came out the day after the convention and just knelt here, you know, even though he was supposed to have all these meetings. I think Leo came the day after the bombs at KSU." Donna heard her voice start to quaver uncontrollably, and stopped, making eye contact with her true focus for the first time.

Engraved granite returned her gaze solemnly, its polished surface twinkling a little in the sun, with brighter points where some piece of quartz had refused to be worn down by time or cutting.

"I've been out here so many times, CJ. Why is this time different? Is it because today is when it really registered with all of us that we really were the parents? That we'd watch them walk for the first time and roll over on their own and start toddling and talking, take them to kindergarten and to spelling bees or whatever they do now... that it was up to us?" She crouched down in front of the stone, looking first at the flowers she had deposited before speaking, then trailing her hand across the green grass, then over to the gravestone. Donna tilted her head up as the sun escaped the clouds for a moment, feeling new tear-tracks form down the sides of her face.

"Friend, daughter, sister, mother," she read softly. "Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc... no one's going to be able to read that in fifty years, you know," she added, almost laughing. Josh had explained the joke, now decidedly morbid, to her earlier in the year. "I'm almost looking forward to when we won't be looking at each other and thinking that a year ago you were still with us." Donna remained still for a while, fingers tracing the carvings, until she finally stood up, realizing the bright spot of cloud indicating the position of the sun had moved quite a bit from when she arrived.

Turning, she saw familiar figures crossing the closest incline. Sam was the closest and looked up but did not wave, until he arrived and hugged her quietly. 

"Hey," he greeted. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Nice flowers," she smiled.

"Yours too." He turned as Josh came up, followed shortly by Carol and Toby. Josh was carrying two arrangements.

"Charlie couldn't get away," he explained to her raised eyebrows.

"Why are we all here?" Donna asked no one in particular. Confused glances followed her question, and finally Carol shrugged.

"Maybe we all needed to be out here today," Josh finally offered. 

"Today is when we were all presented with strong evidence that we're in charge of those two," Sam added.

"I was just talking about that," Donna told them. Then she looked to Toby. He stepped forward and past her, coming up to the marker with one hand in his pocket. With a sigh, he drew out a smooth stone and set it on top. Reverently, he placed the flowers beside Donna's, then touched his lips, very lightly, to where CJ's name was engraved. 

Slowly they all stepped forward, until there were six bouquets lying next to one another.

"The streets of heaven..." Josh started.

"... are too crowded with angels," Sam finished, voice low.

"You know what I'd like to do?" Toby mused. There was a long pause before they looked at him and realized he was addressing them. "We haven't been able to utilize the broader theme as much as we'd like; it's too obviously political to really be used in an election year." 

"Toby, you're talking about education reform..." Josh almost whispered from where he was standing with his arms around Donna. "I don't know if we can do that."

"Schools should be palaces," Sam sighed. Carol touched his shoulder, whether in sympathy or reassurance none could tell.

"Isn't better education one of the things we're here for?" Toby continued. "They weren't born wanting to do this," he added, quoting from one of the President's speeches. "I think it's time we admit that the two major parties of this country have been feeding their own egos far too long and ask if we can manage to do this one right thing."

"Turn around three times and spit," Josh immediately directed.

"Huh?" 

"Toby, we can only do this if we win." Toby's eyes widened.

"I think we will," he said, looking at the grave.

"Toby!" Sam exclaimed.

"I do. And I want to start planning now."

"Here?" Donna asked tentatively.

"I can think of few better places to plan ahead than here." Then Toby looked up. "Unless it rains."

"Toby, if we win, the very day after the election, I will start working on this, all right?" Josh promised. Toby nodded and looked around for the assent of the others. 

"Okay, then. We should probably-" he gestured back to the cars.

Slowly they trickled away, but Sam stood still, gazing at flowers and stone, which had blurred with tears. "Thank you," he managed after a minute. "We won't let you down." 

It must have been his imagination, but the change in the air seemed to indicate that they'd better not let the President down.

* * *

On Election Day, the West Wing was a strange place to be. People were running around as they often did, but there was an almost relaxed feeling, which senior staffers alternately, depending on their mood of the moment, joined in on or claimed to be driven crazy by. When it was the latter, it is more than likely that they were misdirecting their own strange feelings at being part of what had been a rather historic campaign, a debate consisting largely of their candidate mopping the floor with Governor Ritchie, and polls that pointed to a landslide by the Democratic candidate.

That is, if everyone found the correct place to punch their ballot, and if Sam didn't jinx the whole thing by being surprised that Toby wrote two speeches. He wondered as he came back in, fancying odd looks from the guards, if it was still effective if the spit froze.

It appeared that, as Josh had noted to Toby during the debate, 'Uncle Fluffy' was gone for good, and in his place stood a supremely intelligent man of good judgment with the sense of assurance that drove his opponents crazy without being arrogant.

Yet for all its uncannily intelligent moves the past several months, the Bartlet White House had managed to attract a wide variety of Americans into voting for them; by being open, by being young, by being young and cute, by being cute (the First Couple), and by pushing forward with all the beautiful, passionate determination for democracy that the American people didn't realize they had missed until they had it again.

Donna looked at an article on her desk from the day after the State of the Union, wondering what the headline would read tomorrow. This one proclaimed the Bartlet Presidency to 'have risen from the ashes of despair... like a phoenix he stood and proclaimed what he has done and that he would do better.' She shook her head a little at the comparison, then felt Josh come up behind her.

"I have nothing to do," he noted.

"We could make out, but everyone would see," she observed.

"Let's do it," Josh agreed with a smirk, reaching for her.

"Nu-uh," Donna advised him, scooting her chair away a little.

"Awww..." 

"We're getting married in a couple of weeks, you can wait," she told him, turning back to her sorting.

"I can't," he murmured, approaching again, this time to bend over and wrap one arm around her stomach while kissing her hair.

"I can't type this way," she said, smiling a little.

"That's okay. It's Election Day, nobody cares anyway."

"Josh... I'm taking you out to a three hour lunch or something..." he started smirking and she added, "with Sam and Toby, if you don't stop."

"Okay, I'm going to go bother someone else." He straightened and bounced off in the direction of Toby's office. 

"You have the twins tonight," she called after him. 

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

"Not!" 

"Yes!"

"Not!"

"What are you, five? Bring them to the thing where we find out who won." 

"The First Lady would kill me."

"Bring the cribs, put them in a corner, don't forget the pacifiers and bottles," she admonished. "I'll put a note on your desk about it later, now leave me alone."

"Okay." 

"Want me to put the lid on tonight?" Carol offered, coming into the cubicle.

"What's the point of putting the lid on when we have to take it off again five hours later?" Donna inquired with a smile, still typing.

"It's just something we're supposed to do."

"I say whichever one of us is least drunk and still coherent does it."

"Or we could flip a coin."

"Okay, I don't think either of us will be able to flip a coin no matter what by tonight," Donna said, turning around and grinning.

"We'll do it your way, then. I'm off to the morning briefing--anything I should know?"

"I'm about to offer Josh up to the Press Corps?" They laughed.

"I'm pretty sure there's still alarms set to go off if he comes into the hallway there," Carol answered.

"Probably not anything, except you have to hide the fact that we're all looking for something to do," she whispered.

"That's definitely something to hide from the public. See you when I get back."

"Good luck!" 

The President and Leo finished most of their work for the day by one (including, for the President, a trip up to New Hampshire to vote), and sat in the armchairs in the Oval. "The waiting is the worst," the President observed.

"You could go catch up on sleep and we'll wake you when the results start coming in," Leo offered.

"Very funny, my friend." They shared a grin. "Seriously," he resumed after a few minutes, "there's got to be a better way to spend Election Day than sitting in here with you."

"You could spend it with the First Lady."

"That's for tonight."

"I really needed to know that."

"Shut up," his boss admonished.

"Did you hear about Toby and the balloons?" Leo asked after several minutes.

"This sounds good."

"Some poor intern took about a dozen balloons by the Communications Bullpen while Toby was out there." 

"Poor sap... what did he do to them?"

"Just made them run, I think, but that's the only balloon sighting reported in the building today. Must have been someone new."

"Yeah... they won't do it again," the President mused.

"I think we're just going to have to wait," Leo concluded. 

"Yeah." The President leaned back in the chair, wondering when the first results would come in.

At 9:30, Carol ducked quietly into the Oval Office and stood before the President, next to Leo, and stared at him with a solemn expression. 

"What?" their leader queried, finally pushed to the brink.

Slowly, as if fighting it, they started to smile. 

"You're gonna win New Hampshire," Leo finally told him.

The President leaned back where he stood and heaved a great sigh. "For a minute there..." he finally started, cut off by their grins.

"We're in the Mural Room," Carol informed the President.

They watched the polls close, east to west... and watched in astonishment as the map turned very, very blue.

"And Florida, Governor Ritchie's home state, appears to be going to President Bartlet tonight. With 80 percent of precincts reporting in, it looks like a fairly healthy 54 percent of Floridians voted Democratic today."

"And the President sweeps New England, averaging 62 percent of the vote." 

"Early signs point to a surprise win in the Plains States as well as a strong showing for the President in the South, a possible indication of this year's unexpected alliance between women's groups and various Christian religious organizations to voice their support for President Bartlet on a variety of issues." 

"Even more surprising is the youth turnout in the exit polls today. We won't have definite numbers until tomorrow morning, but it looks like the 30 and under category has its strongest showing in over thirty years."

"Get this, folks: South Carolina, thought to be unattainable by any Democratic candidate of the last fifty years, has apparently gone to the President today, with 85 percent of precincts reporting."

"We're still waiting for results in California, but it's a strongly Democratic state, so it'll be a surprise if the President doesn't win it; the polls have just closed so just a few precincts have preliminary numbers, which they've asked us not to release yet." 

"Let's talk about the Wilde campaign in the 47th for a minute."

"Well, Horton Wilde, who is dead, is losing by about fifty votes to Chuck Webb, a six-term Congressman. Wilde's campaign put on a strong showing, but we won't find out for at least a couple of hours who the winner is here, and if it's Wilde, not only will history be made in the 47th, but also there will have to be a special election..."

"Astonishing news from the South, folks: as if South Carolina going to the President wasn't enough of an historic event, the President and Governor Ritchie are almost tied so far in Alabama, with 75 percent of precincts reporting in so far.

"So far, Mississippi and North Carolina are the only states we know for sure Governor Ritchie has won, and even in Mississippi the margin was much smaller than one would expect. I believe we're seeing the work of church groups again here." 

"Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Ohio, common swing states, have all now reported in with at least 95 percent of their votes counted as being for President Bartlet. In Ohio, 59 percent went to the President, and in Michigan and Pennsylvania, an unprecedented 63 percent went to the Democratic candidate today."

"We have to admit we've never seen anything like this before, and unless one can remember an election involving President Franklin Roosevelt, it's likely no one else can, either."

"That's right, Frances, he was the last President to have such a landslide as we appear to be heading toward tonight, although nothing is really certain until all precincts have reported in."

"Wyoming and Idaho both go to Governor Ritchie, although again, with margins much less than we usually see. However, they have few electoral votes, so it seems unlikely that the Governor will suffer anything less than a crushing defeat at the hands of President Bartlet tonight."

"It's not at his hands, it's at the hands of the voters," Toby grumbled from his seat. They all looked at him in surprise, as he was the first person to string together a sentence for over three hours.

"You're talking during this?" Sam asked him.

"What'd I tell you, Josh?" 

"You tempted the wrath of the whatever," Josh obediently answered.

"And yet I had to go outside, turn around three times, spit, and curse this morning," Sam sniped at both boss and friend.

"That was different." 

"How?"

"I'm in charge of you." 

"Ha." Sam turned back to a TV.

"You're all distracting me from watching the results and making out with Donna," Josh fussed.

"I think you're going for something a bit past the making out stage there, mister," Donna told him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh." Josh wondered if he was blushing. "I'm... having fun."

"I can tell," she answered coyly, one hand coming up to rest on his chest.

"Shhh!" Carol hissed, pointing at the TV. 

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, California and all its electoral votes go to the President, as he receives nearly 60 percent of the vote there. Still no definite word on the race in the 47th; it's been fluctuating all evening and Wilde was ahead at one point, but he's dropped back down."

"Yessss!" Sam exclaimed, raising his fists.

"I'm tearing up the other speech," Toby said, reaching for the requisite folder and suiting action to words. "In pieces so small not even a mouse can get any sustenance out of one of them."

"Toby, give me the good one," the President commanded.

"It's not time yet," he objected.

"I want to look at it. Come on, fork it over." Bartlet made a come-hither gesture and Toby reluctantly placed the speech in his leader's hands as one of the TVs caught everyone's attention.

"With the election pretty much decided, we're starting to wind down, and it's hard not to look back on this campaign. For President Bartlet, this run may well be almost as astounding as his unexpected rise from New England obscurity four years ago, and at least as unexpected after his admission a year and a half ago that he has multiple sclerosis. Nevertheless, he confidently predicted that he was going to win." Here the screen went to clips of the announcement and then the drenched President, hands in pockets, declaring his intention to seek a second term--and win it.

"As if the multiple sclerosis itself weren't enough of a strain-" here nearly every staffer in the room rolled his or her eyes "-there was an investigation by a special prosecutor, and later by Congress. At about the same time, the President's Press Secretary, CJ Cregg, was attacked. It must have been an even further blow when she died giving birth to twin girls early this year shortly after the President was censured by H. Con. 172, but somehow the President rallied and is now in the process of making election history."

"You just had to roll out the poor old man, needs sympathy card," Sam growled crossly. 

"I'm old?"

"No, sir, I'm just saying-" Sam started nervously.

"Don't worry about it; I'm just messing with you." The President waved a hand.

"They tried to make us sound like the underdog again," Leo grumped. "Good thing nobody's done that before tonight."

"I would have been happy to carve them up for you," Carol offered from her seat, gazing at a liquid-filled glass in her hand.

"Who's putting the lid on?" Donna asked with a laugh.

"Who cares?" she answered, taking a drink.

"I'm not letting you up there."

"Whatever."

"Carol, it's okay if you don't go back into the room tonight," Leo noted dryly.

"Okey-dokey."

"You're a funny drunk," Sam contributed.

"Who said I was drunk?" she objected.

"The fact that you just said 'okey-dokey' to the Chief of Staff."

"Oh." She pondered this for a minute before finishing off the glass.

"Sir?" Debbie came up from the office where she'd been observing the win from her desk. "Governor Ritchie," she whispered, leaning close to his ear. He nodded and stood.

"Back in a minute, folks."

"Please let it be the concession," Josh muttered into Donna's shoulder... or maybe his face had slid down lower than that as he waited. She shoved him lightly.

"Excuse me, folks," one of the network anchors started a minute later, in concert with the President walking back into the room, "we go live to Governor Ritchie's concession speech."

As it registered for real, they all stood up, piling into a weird and disorganized group hug, shouting and cheering at one another. Carol tripped and Sam caught her, then gave her another hug. Someone finally brought the balloons in, and Toby reached for the nearest bottle of champagne. Leo slipped back from the excited staffers after a minute and went to the oddities in the room: two cribs in one corner, well back from the very mobile staffers. He stood there for a minute, his face all solemnity, and finally reached in and picked up Samantha.

Toby, Josh, Sam, and Donna had all developed good parenting instincts over the past several months. Carol had too, but she was just a little drunk. They immediately turned when they saw motion, and stood openmouthed at the sight of one of the most powerful men in the nation spinning around, holding one of the twins up in the air and grinning up at her with absolute delight that positively erased stress, worry, guilt, and age.

Josh was the first to bounce over, followed shortly by the President, who lifted Abigail up and imitated his friend. Fortunately, they had both been somewhat awake anyway and were for whatever reason not terribly alarmed by being suddenly picked up and spun around by their grandfathers. Instead, they even giggled a little as the staff surrounded this impromptu and indirect inclusion of their missing member.

"Excuse me, folks," the President finally said, "but I think these two need some sleep, and I need to give a victory speech, and I understand a lot of people are waiting for me." Gradually they followed him to one of the large, formal rooms, now decorated with the unbanned balloons and confetti on the floor and dropping from the ceiling at intervals.

Donna ushered the President and First Lady up on the stage, watching how they held hands and wondering if she would still be holding hands like that with Josh when they'd been married as long as the First Couple. Their leader took a deep breath and took a quick look at the teleprompter.

Toby clapped one hand to the side of his face. "He's going to wing it," he predicted with dread.

"What?" Sam rotated in alarm.

"Look at his face. He's not going to use the speech."

Leo knew the President far better and just predicted, "It's not just that he's not using it. Watch this, you guys..."

"We have reached for the stars, and we have done what is hard, and we have done what is right. We have challenged our limits and found a capacity within ourselves not dreamed of before. As a country, as a people, as individuals, we have risen to meet those unexpected and unwanted challenges. Some of us ran into the fire: teachers, parents, students, friends, sisters, daughters." His full voice trembled with emotion, and he built on it. "And some of us stood in the storm and cried out against the injustices that so challenged us. We seek a better nation, a better people, and to that end, we have all come through the storm." 

For a moment, his staff was frozen. When the President moved again, lifting his wife's hand in the air, it was as though they were given permission to move again, and so they did, leading the powerful crest of applause.

Four more years.


	23. I Was Distracted By A Thing

_I Was Distracted By A Thing_

"You know," Sam mused, browsing the menu, "you might think that we're not quite as busy between election and inauguration, but we really are."

"Are you trying to tell me that we might be getting this to go?" Mallory inquired, sitting across from him.

"I'm just saying... one of these years I want a full night's sleep." Sam lifted his eyes to the less-than-usually-critical gaze of his date.

"Sam, do you ever regret being an operative and speechwriter?"

"Why would you say that?" he asked, finally settling on a menu item and wondering if he was buying a small town or a meal as he closed the menu firmly.

"Well, once you said you sometimes wish you could deliver your own speeches."

"I didn't mean anything by it," he denied, taking a long drink of water, his eyes focused on the clear liquid.

"Sam-" Mallory stopped as a waiter came over. Biting her lip a little, she ordered, then sat back and studied him critically as he requested his own food. "I think you want to be a candidate," she continued once they were alone again.

Sam had been fidgeting with just his hands. Now he stopped and sat perfectly still, staring down at the table. When he finally looked up and drilled into her with his blue eyes, she was surprised to see they were brimming with tears. "I don't have any right to run when all my impetus comes at the price of someone else's life," he responded. "I mean, yeah, the President of the United States, who also happens to be my boss, told me I was going to run for office, but she said it first."

"Sam, I'm not usually a member of the Sisterhood, but I've got to tell you that if CJ ever caught any hint you had said that, she would unhesitatingly kick your ass." 

"You're probably right." He sighed restlessly. "It's just... damn," he muttered, rubbing his eyes furiously. "I would always wonder if someone would discover that particular skeleton in my closet, that I'd feel I had blood on my hands every time I campaigned. And I have a responsibility to CJ's children, too; we've all got to protect them from politics. On top of that, I'm trying to woo you, and it's possible you'd like to see me for more than ten seconds a day..."

"I'm being wooed?" Mallory smirked.

"Bad choice of words?" 

"Not exactly." She reached across the table to take his hand. Surprised, he met her eyes directly again, and she could see, for the first time, the full level of conflict that was pulling at Sam's great mind. "Sam, my dad told me about the box. He told me about the tapes. If you want to run for office, then run... just don't leave your job in the lurch, and if you're still wooing me then, make sure you set time aside in your schedule for me. You write so well for the President because you've got the same qualities he does, or you will in time."

"I don't anymore," he murmured.

"Don't what?" she asked gently.

"Our talent wandered off again," he clarified, looking discouraged. "We're... flat."

"Okay, Sam, you've got to stop referring to the individual talents of yourself and the individual talents of Toby as 'our talent', because it's seriously freaking me out," she admonished.

"Sorry," he confessed with a small smile. "Your dad told you about the tapes?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" 

"Because when it comes down to it, he really likes messing with me as much as he likes messing with you."

"Ah." He sat back as their food arrived, and said nothing for several minutes while he focused on it, admitting to himself that it really was very good.

"Sam," Mallory prodded.

"Mmm?" 

"Aren't you from the California 47th?" He froze and stared at her. She smiled smugly. "I did my homework, buster. You can appeal to them if you run there, even if it's against Chuck Webb; just don't get into a fistfight, and don't leave me to be the lonely girlfriend or whatever, because I will come and I will kick your ass." Mallory aimed her fork at him for emphasis.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Girlfriend?" 

"Or whatever."

"You want me to run." 

"Sam, I like arguing with you about the issues." 

"I like arguing with you too." He paused. "About more than political issues."

Mallory stared at him in surprise.

Sam's pager went off.

The two of them rolled their eyes in perfect concert as Sam dug one hand into his coat. "You kissed me first," he muttered weakly as he pulled it out. "Damn, that's wonderful," he continued, pulling out his cell phone and connecting to the White House. "What's the page?" he inquired grumpily. "This is six time zones over, can it wait, you know, half an hour? I'm almost done... aww, come on, Leo, this is the first one in... Hey! I did not! It's my first slow night in, oh, I don't know, seven months or something. Yeah, I can see it's not slow anymore." At this point Mallory ran out of patience and reached across the table, snatching the phone from Sam's surprised fingers.

"Hi, Dad. Sam will be there in 45 minutes. I'm having a lovely time. Bye." She shut it and handed it back.

"Wow. Can you do that to other people besides your dad?"

"Including you? Yes, Sam, I can."

One of her hands was still resting on the table. Sam picked it up and brought it to his lips, lifting his eyes to Mallory's as he kissed it. She looked surprised at first, then smiled gently.

"Equals, Sam. Shall we finish?"

"I thought we were starting."

"We're finishing the meal," she corrected, looking at him with amusement.

"Oh. Yeah, um, I... shall we argue some more at another time? And maybe do some non-arguing for the sake of my ego?"

"Sure, but I insist on having some drinks if I'm going to be supporting your ego, Sam."

"Thank you, Mallory."

"What'd I do?"

"You said the right things at the right time."

"When are you going to do it?"

"I don't know, but I'll need your help."

Mallory locked gazes with Sam for a good minute before nodding.

* * *

"Where'd it go?"

"Which thing?" 

"You know, the thing!"

"This thing?" 

"No, that one..."

"What are we talking about?"

"I swear, even Donna doesn't know by now." Bonnie turned a somewhat amused gaze to her fellow assistant.

"I'm distracted by the big thing," Donna complained.

"Thanks for that."

"If I start laughing at any point today during an embarrassing moment, I'm blaming you!" Donna exclaimed, blushing all over. Andi retrieved a bracelet from one of the dressing tables and raised her eyes inquisitively.

"That's Ginger's," most of the women in the room responded in chorus. One of them sat patiently in a corner, watching the younger women fuss over Donna. Finally she turned to their high-ranking guest, blushing again and smiling awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Bartlet... thank you for offering to help today."

"You're welcome, Donna; I'm just glad I was able to talk my husband into staying away from the groom's suite," she answered, rising. 

"Yeah, I think Josh would be pretty freaked out," she confessed. Taking place the day after Thanksgiving, Josh and Donna's wedding had eventually come out as a relatively small event based in the White House.

"Do you have something old and something new?" Margaret checked. "Something borrowed and something blue?"

"Does the ring count as old?" 

"Yes," Andi and Abbey got in as the younger women waffled. "But it's from the groom, so you can't count it," the First Lady added.

"Okay, umm..." Donna looked around.

"Wasn't the necklace your grandmother's?" Carol asked her.

"Oh! Yes!"

"What's new?"

"New Hampshire, New York..." Andi started. The assistants dissolved into nervous laughter for a minute. 

"My bracelet is new. And there's blue in the bouquet. I'm not sure I borrowed anything, though."

"It's a good thing I'm here, then," Abbey put in, holding out a pair of earrings.

"Oh, Mrs. Bartlet," Donna gasped in awe. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, dear. Sit down." Donna carefully slipped into a chair and sat still as the First Lady slipped out her earrings and put the other ones on, then turned her to face a mirror.

"They're perfect," Margaret exclaimed. Abbey just smiled.

There was a knock on the door, and a tuxedoed Charlie appeared after Ginger opened it, still fighting the bracelet.

"The President predicted you'd be ready, and Zoey's here, ma'am."

"Thank you, Charlie; he's a smart man, but don't tell him that."

"Josh wants to come in."

"No!" all of them shouted, including Zoey, who had ducked in and started helping Ginger conquer her bracelet clasp.

"That's what I told him, but he insisted I try," Charlie responded with a smile. "Everything's ready."

"Thanks, Charlie," Donna said with a smile.

"I'm going to go sit down," Andi said, coming to give Donna a quick kiss. "You look great." 

"Thanks," Donna responded with a smile.

"Don't let me catch the bouquet," Andi grinned as she went out.

"If you're sure you're ready, Donna, I'm going to go in there too," Abbey said, coming up to her again.

"Thank you, ma'am," Donna answered. "I think I am... I'm not. Yeah, I am." 

"You're doing wonderfully, dear, and call me Abbey for now, will you?"

Donna smiled brilliantly as the First Lady exited.

"Everyone ready?" Margaret wanted to know.

"I hope no one minds that there's more bridesmaids than groomsmen," Donna worried again.

"It's fine," Zoey said, smiling.

"Okay." Donna tugged a little at her skirt.

"Are you putting the veil down?" Bonnie asked her.

"I still haven't decided."

"I think it looks good that way," Carol told her, and Zoey and Ginger both nodded.

"Okay." They all went into the hallway, Donna with her eyes increasingly wide. "I'm so nervous."

"We forgot to come up with a contingency plan for what to do if you get nervous," Carol joked. "If Josh tries to make up a secret plan to fight inflation, we're set, but you..." she trailed off, and Donna laughed, distracted again.

"I just hope there's not a thing," Margaret whispered, peering into the hall, which had been converted dramatically for the wedding.

"Me too," Carol agreed. "I can't brief in a bridesmaid's dress."

"Carol and Sam," Margaret directed, turning back from the door.

"We know, we know... man, Josh looks nervous," Carol responded, looking down the aisle.

"He may need his tie straightened once you get there, Donna," Sam said, glancing at her with a smile.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Donna sighed, shooing at them to go in.

"Okay, next is me and Ginger, then Zoey and Charlie, then Bonnie and Toby," Margaret reminded them before stepping off.

Donna took several deep breaths as they all walked slowly away from her.

"Nervous, Donna?" a voice offered at her ear.

"Mr. President," she jumped.

"I'm sorry; didn't mean to startle you. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," she agreed, swallowing. He held out his arm.

"Donna?" he prompted after a long moment. She started and shook her head a little bit.

"I'm sorry, sir," she admitted, taking his arm.

"Are those my wife's earrings?" he queried.

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Let's go."

Donna couldn't help but smile and blush as the guests rose as she slowly paced down the aisle with the President. Had so many not been smiling, she would have wondered how many were standing for her, and how many were standing for him. At last, they reached Josh.

The President guided her hand directly to Josh's, lifting his gaze to the younger man. It was a moment of curious symmetry; Donna had seen much the same look directed at her, nearly ten months before, when the President had commended Josh's health to her care. Now he was commending her to Josh's care... and letting go, leaving her hand in Josh's. He held it with utter reverence, eyes shining in his nervous but appreciative face, as she faced him directly.

Donna thought she caught motion out of the corner of her eye... a flash of something familiar, but it was just a sandy-haired agent at the back of the hall. She took a breath and focused on Josh again, who lifted his other hand to fully enclose her right, still with that quiet, reverent awe she hadn't guessed he possessed a year ago.

* * *

"Excuse me, are you Zoey Bartlet?"

Zoey looked up in surprise. "Hey," she exclaimed, standing up. 

"Hi, Zoey," Charlie returned, smiling at her with admiration. As she approached for a hug, he started to back up a little. "What would your dad say about that?"

"He can deal with it," she responded, the last part muffled as she stopped his retreat by wrapping her arms around him. "Are we going anywhere special tonight?"

"I found a pair of tickets to a certain play on my desk last week," he revealed, grinning down at her.

"Oh!"

"Also, the President is going up to the Residence early, so if milady would happen to have a suitable outfit on hand..." he suggested.

"I would suggest that I don't need an outfit to have fun with you," she declared with an impish smile, "but my dad might get upset. What time is it at?"

"If you start changing now, I think you'll have time," Charlie answered after a look at his watch. She smacked him on the arm. "Hey, ow."

"I'm the local representative of the Sisterhood, buster, you'd better watch it," she warned. "I'll be back down in an hour." 

Halfway through the third act, Charlie felt his cell phone go off. He disentangled his hand from Zoey's--who knew you could entwine fingers that much?--and reached for it, wondering if Zoey was rolling her eyes as much as he was.

It seemed pretty likely.

He snuck a glance at her attire again as he opened the phone. Only her father would object to it, and no doubt had, just on general principle of her being a young woman and him, well, not being a young woman. It was like velvet, a deep twilight that he hesitated to put an actual color to.

"Charlie Young. Okay, but Debbie... no, wait, he didn't have anything." He didn't say anything for a minute, listening. "Really? Whoa. Listen, though, is this actually a national emergency, or did he have you call just to mess with me? Uh-uh. I see, well..." he glanced over at his date, "I'm not completely sure it's in the best interests of the nation for me to leave here right now, as that might cause a different kind of national emergency."

"Give me that," Zoey directed, suiting action to words. "Debbie? Tell my dad he can have Charlie back in three hours, or after the play, and he'll still owe me, oh, about three days. Yeah, I'm having fun. Bye. That's how you do it," she added, handing it back to him.

"Yeah, but I don't exactly have the same influence you do," he answered dryly, reaching for her hand again. She took it, but fidgeted a little. As the fourth act started, he finally asked her, "What's wrong?"

"I want to sit in your lap," she confessed.

"You'll mess up your dress."

"I don't care," she declared, moving from her seat.

"Zoey, why this sudden urge to sit in my lap?" he asked, even as she climbed on.

"I'm thinking about tragedy, and want a man to comfort me," she said, smiling.

"Oh?"

"Actually, I'm a little cold."

"I wish you'd said something. I would have taken off my jacket."

"No, that's okay... you can do that the next date," she told him, still smiling, from a distance of about four inches.

Charlie turned to look at her. "Next date?"

"Uh-uh." She seemed to study him for another moment, then brought her hand to his chin and turned it. Before Charlie knew it, he was in the midst of a kiss with the President's youngest daughter.

"Hi," he said when they stopped.

"Hi," she returned, smiling. "Ooh, good part," she remarked, leaning against him.

"Yeah, this is the good part," Charlie agreed with fervor.

But he wasn't just talking about the play, and suspected Zoey wasn't either.

* * *

"Toby, at some point you're going to have to do something about this look you get every time you see me," Andi advised.

"What look?"

"That combination of wonder and horror that only you could mix up and deliver with such expression," she replied. "Toby..." 

"You are both absolutely unbelievable," he remarked suddenly.

"Toby, right now when you're addressing me it's either one or three, not two."

"Just a second." He closed the blinds facing out to the bullpen and sat down on the couch, facing away from the door, and gesturing to her to do the same. Looking at him oddly, Andi sat. "I wasn't talking about you and the twins," he continued softly. "I was talking about you and CJ."

"Okay... why was CJ unbelievable, and why am I unbelievable now?"

"You both used your pregnancies." She raised an annoyed eyebrow at him. "You both used them, and you're using yours, and that terrifies me."

"Toby," she sighed. "This is a direct political fight, because I can't stand those people... the ones who have a problem with it."

"And as I said, I can admire that, Andrea! That does nothing-nothing-to change the fact that it terrifies me. I am terrified of something happening to you, and you can't change that. The only thing that can change that is to go back over eleven months and be in that office." 

"How do you know that would have changed anything?" she questioned, even as she was moved by his admission of terror. 

Toby looked at the exterior windows, then dropped his gaze to his desk. The frames were turned away from him from where he sat, but he still knew which ones were which. The one on the edge was a folding frame of Samantha and Abigail. There was a 5" by 7" next to it that was from their first Inaugural, and on the opposite edge was a still of CJ at the podium.

When he looked back, his usually inscrutable face was uncharacteristically open, brown eyes even more complex than normal. "I don't," he finally admitted. "But that way I would know I had done what I could, and I want to do everything I can for you."

Andi held his gaze. "Is that why you kept asking about announcing it?" 

"Yeah," he admitted.

She smiled, just a little. "How did CJ use her pregnancy?" she asked suddenly, her mind turning over the last few minutes.

Toby's lips parted, his expression changing to surprise and then guilt.

"Toby?" she requested. "What happened?"

"This doesn't go outside..." he started, actually shaking a little.

"Toby, I know this is confidential. What the hell happened?"

"CJ told us last July that she was pregnant, and immediately declared her intent to use herself politically." Toby paused and rubbed his beard. "If I'd dared, I would have talked her out of it, but once CJ's decided something like that, you can't stop her, and if I had, we would have been completely defenseless from then until January. We, uh, had a strategy session--Leo, Sam, Josh, CJ and myself--to plan what to do. Yeah, we looked at both options. Sam was angry about it, and I think deeper down, the rest of us were too, but we were all too busy being political operatives."

"Toby-" Andi started, aghast.

"Let me finish," he said, shaking his head at her. "This is the part I don't know as well, but CJ went a long time between ultrasounds, and the President scheduled her one in September. At the staff meeting in the Oval after it-" he paused, for the moment was now etched in his memory: the image of CJ, sitting across from him, lifting two fingers in response to his question and with a funny little half-smile on her face that he only knew, months later as he cradled her head in his lap for the last time, for the concealment of terror it had been. "After it," he continued, "she told us she was carrying twin girls. What no one but Sam found out until it was far too late was that she was also told then that she was at risk for delivery complications--I never asked what they were. I was too busy trying not to punch Sam in the face for knowing when the rest of us didn't." He pulled his gaze away from memory. "CJ polled on it. She polled on it, Andi! She followed through on her original intent despite the danger to herself, and she solidified her strategy, and left strategy for us so reelection wouldn't suffer, and she did it to protect the rest of us! There is nothing, no duty, no written statement, no oath, that approaches the level of dedication that CJ ultimately felt was required! And I am terrified," he continued in a softer voice, "that you will do the same thing." 

Andrea Wyatt, articulate Congresswoman from Maryland, was utterly speechless.

"I knew CJ longer than anyone else here," Toby admitted, so softly she leaned forward a little. "I should have realized why she was pushing herself... I should have done something other than what I did. And that's why," he added, looking up and giving her an odd smile with no joy in it, "I am terrified for you. I'm terrified of what I'm missing."

She closed her eyes, unable to watch this particular pain of Toby's. 

"Who was she protecting?" she asked finally.

"Sam and I. Me and Sam. Mostly us... possibly Josh and Leo, too." 

"And the President?"

"Him too." By the look in Toby's eyes, she could tell there was more pain and guilt hovering in his mind, but she wasn't sure it was anyone's place to see it.

"I don't know what to say, Toby, except that you know everything I know about my pregnancy, except for the morning sickness and the cravings," she told him finally.

"I know." He moved restlessly on the couch. "But I am still afraid, Andrea, and I will continue to be afraid."

And against that unexpected declaration she had neither defense nor comfort.

_My God, CJ, why did you have to be so very brave?_

* * *

"I really am sorry about Horton Wilde," Sam remarked as he opened a door.

"Thanks. I am too. He was a real Democrat in a district of Webb-lovers."

"And you weren't?"

"Fair point," Will Bailey admitted.

"We really appreciate your coming, by the way," Sam continued.

"My candidate lost by ten votes, so I didn't have a whole lot else to do, although it does increase my hopes for Orange County going Democratic in the future." 

"Really?" Sam asked casually.

"Yeah. Know anyone?"

"Not really, since I'm probably going to spend the rest of my life in this building," Sam said dryly, leading the way into the bullpen.

"I see."

"Hi," Toby said as they came into his office.

"Will Bailey." 

"Yeah, hi. Sam explain everything on the way in?" 

"Yeah," Will admitted.

"Good." The older man picked up a pad of paper and launched it at him. "Global threats. 500 words. If it's 501 don't give it to me." 

"Okay," Will said, blinking. Sam about-faced, waving at Will to come with him.

"Come on, I'll find you a desk."

"That was fast."

"Get used to it. Around here we have two speeds: fast and nonexistent." 

"So I see," Will answered, ducking out of someone's way as they came through.

"Yeah, you might want to walk faster," Sam directed.

"He didn't give me a time limit," the new guy noted.

"I think he meant as quickly as possible, preferably yesterday. Hey, Donna!" Sam called.

"Yes?" she questioned, turning from her high-speed typing.

"Donna!" Josh bellowed from inside his office.

"Just a minute, darling, I'm talking to Sam!" she called back, half-turning toward the door before turning back to Sam with a smile. "What can I do for you?" 

"This is Will Bailey. He's a speechwriter and also ran the Horton Wilde campaign in Orange County; we've brought him in as a temp speechwriter. Toby gave him an assignment; do we have a spare desk?"

"Sam's out there?" came the call from Josh's office, followed shortly by Josh himself.

"Hi, Will, I'm Donna Moss," she greeted. "Orange County... was that the dead guy?"

"Yeah. Am I going to be known for that for the rest of my life?"

"I think that largely depends on how your writing assignment from Toby goes," she told him. "And you can use the desk right there... the guy who used to have it quit or something," Donna added, gesturing. Her cubicle space had been rearranged and enlarged in the past several months to accommodate her increased responsibilities as well as the occasional pair of baby carriers that sat there.

"Josh Lyman," the gentleman of that name offered, coming up and shaking Will's hand.

"Will Bailey."

"Ah, the dead guy," Josh identified, turning to kiss Donna on the cheek.

"What'd I say?" he said, turning to Sam in despair.

"Well, this is pretty good, because now you've met almost all of the senior staff," Sam remarked. "The only one you haven't is Carol, she's the-"

"-de facto Press Secretary," Will finished, and found himself on the receiving end of three expressions approaching a glower.

"Okay, I beg of you," Josh said first, "don't ever let the President hear you say that."

"Sorry." He stepped back, raising his hands.

"It's okay, you didn't know," Donna assured him, moving toward the desk she'd pointed to a minute ago.

"So is it bad if I ask why there are baby toys?" he offered, still backing up.

"A little bit, yeah," Sam responded.

"Okay." He reached the desk and sat down. "I'm just going to write."

"Nice meeting you," Josh said, wrapping an arm around Donna. Will raised an eyebrow and shook his head a little as Sam came up. 

"They're married," he informed quietly, realizing the very peculiar dynamics of the senior staff were probably driving Will Bailey crazy after only five minutes of exposure.

"Josh and Donna?"

"Yeah, they're having a long honeymoon," Sam said wryly as Donna smacked Josh lightly on the head.

"They're acting like an old married couple as well; an interesting paradox," Will noted.

"Yeah, that's what everyone keeps saying." Sam watched the two for another minute and then shrugged, heading back to his own office. Will bent his head over the paper; as unaware and open as the affectionate gestures between Josh and Donna seemed to be, he still felt a little strange watching it, and he had writing to do in any case.

He did, however, look up for a moment when the phone rang. "Josh Lyman's office," Donna answered. Josh placed his hands on her sides right below the ribcage even as she continued speaking. "Uh-uh. Yeah, Margaret, I've got the thing right here. What's that? Sorry, I was distracted by a thing... not this thing, another thing."

Will had to wonder if there was a guide to what was meant by 'thing', since it seemed to refer to any of about five hundred items so far, although he suspected the 'thing' Donna had been distracted by was Josh running his hands gently down her sides.

"These people are crazy," he muttered. "Yeah, new global threats... 500 words."


	24. It's Gonna Be An Unbearable Day

_It's Gonna Be An Unbearable Day_

Josiah Bartlet stood still, gazing at the monument. His shoes rubbed against the cold grass of winter, and his breath frosted the air.

Beside him, his wife and daughters stood motionless, one arm wrapped around the one next to them, so they made a barricade between the turf just in front of the monument and any who might dare to come near.

Behind, he could hear his staff letting out hard breaths into the chilled air.

"Mr. President?" Charlie said softly from his shoulder. "We need to go back to the motorcade."

"Yeah," he nodded, still not moving his eyes. Abbey turned her head and kissed him gently.

"You ready, babe?"

One full breath, then another. "Yeah." He took another full look at the length and breadth of the monument. "I'll be right there."

"Sir?" Leo approached.

The President turned to look at him, and only then did Leo see why he had hesitated after Charlie's reminder. His face was a pattern of uncertain emotions, a war between gratitude and guilt, cheering and crying. In that moment, the full complexity of the President was laid bare, and Leo knew only then how close Jed Bartlet had come to quitting the race before the first Tuesday in November.

Then he took a decisive breath, transforming into a leader again. His human side would show again, but now it was covered by the public persona of half a lifetime in politics, of the need to care what it looks like.

After all, the root of his very human conflict could never be made public or fully admitted in any way outside the most private of conversations, lest he lose yet another member of his staff as they threw themselves in danger's way. 

Taking his wife's hand firmly in his own, he seemed to straighten and nodded. "We've got the Bible?" Charlie nodded in the affirmative, expression sardonic, but the President didn't call him on it; he deserved it. "The address is really ready?" Toby and Sam turned their eyes to meet his and breathed out a single assurance.

He pivoted back slowly, for just an instant, to face the previous object of his attention. His face muted to the quietness and solemnity of watching a dangerous mission, and Abbey could see his eyes grow shadows, just for a moment, as he nodded in a silent salute that conveyed more respect than any other gesture in the world. "Thank you, CJ."

He pivoted back again and marched with silent decisiveness past his daughters and staff.

Leo waffled for a minute as he watched his friend move away, swinging between the object of his leader's attention and the rest of the staff. Finally he made eye contact with them. "It's going to be-" he started.

"-an unbearable day," Sam finished softly.

Leo didn't have the heart to glower at him for interrupting. It had been pretty close to what he meant to say, after all.

Slowly they gathered themselves, gravitating again, if they could, to the other they were comforted by.

Samantha Joan and Abigail Leona were a year old today, and for that, they needed more strength than if they staffed a President through a dozen Inaugurals. The girls were there, bundled carefully against the chill of January 19.

And as they watched their leader step forward and stand high for the cameras witnessing his Presidential oath, and as he stood and delivered an inaugural address full of sweet promise of democracy and equality as when the country was new, they wondered what gifts and challenges they were to face in these next four years.

* * *

Charlie bowed to Zoey and gestured to the dance floor. Sam hesitantly approached Mallory and started a small argument, gradually changing the walk to a dance. Josh cradled Donna, off in their own world. Toby kept snatching drinks away from Andi. And the President and First Lady were in high demand, moving from conversation to conversation.

Yet there was something bothering them, Will Bailey thought from the sidelines, watching Zoey duck her head a little and giggle, then spotting the President smiling broadly with a senator and her husband. They looked just a little tight, a little anxious, as though anticipating something bad.

"Nobody to be out there with?" A vaguely familiar-looking redhead in a tuxedo appeared on his left.

"Not really, no... this is their party. I wasn't even here until six weeks after the election." 

"I see," he nodded. "You're not a Republican, are you?"

"What? No, oh, no. I'm definitely a Democrat."

"Sorry. When you said 'their party' I wasn't sure what you meant."

"I meant people besides me earned it. I'm just lucky to be here."

"That's for sure." The other took a drink and contemplated the room with a sad look that should have been entirely out of place, but wasn't. 

"I'm sorry, you look a little familiar..." Will prompted.

"Yeah, I'm a regular around the White House." 

"I'm sorry; it's just that I don't want anything I happen to say to wind up in the paper tomorrow." Will didn't think himself so green as to actually talk to a reporter without making sure first that it was off the record.

"I'm off the record for tonight."

There was a blank silence while Will stared at him.

"Danny Concannon; I'm with the Post." He extended a hand.

Will blinked a few times, and finally shook the other's proffered hand. "Sorry. I'm Will Bailey; I, uh, I write speeches. And I thought my reporter radar was better tuned than that."

"It is, I just get to turn off the sign," Danny responded with a smirk. "Nice meeting you," he added, turning away as he spotted Josh and Donna pulling apart.

"You too."

Will sneaked a quick glance at his watch as Danny walked away. It was a bit before seven thirty.

The President stood toward the front of the room, nodding at each of his staff as they came up. Josh and Donna came up first, entwined around each other again as soon as they stopped moving. Leo, then Sam and Mallory, and finally Carol slipped away from the crowd, joining up with Danny on her way to them, all gradually filling in the circle. She nodded back at the President as she arrived; the movement was no different than if she'd been signaling him before the press. He backed up a little and found a microphone.

"Excuse me," his voice called over the babylon of voices. They hushed and stood, waiting and watching him. 

Those privileged to stand in the circle seemed to turn to statues, and the President himself stood perfectly still.

Just as frowns ran through the crowd, the President took a deep breath. "Thank you all very much," he started.

Had they too been standing before the microphone, the collective gusty breath the others let out would have drowned out their leader. The putting aside of memory and grief was almost visible, and Sam felt it like the proverbial burden lifting off the shoulders. He turned and shared a kiss with Mallory, Leo's fatherly glower ignored. All around, they nodded and then stepped back to what they had been doing, now having granted this little moment of silence that belonged only to themselves to an anniversary of tragedy.

Josh spun Donna around and grinned, dimpled and sparkling. "Hi," he said. 

"Hi," she returned, completely relaxed. "We've got more balls to go to."

"Yes, indeed... then we can have our own private ball," he answered, bending a little to drop a kiss on her shoulder. She giggled, just a little.

"Sounds good to me."

"Might be a good day after all," he murmured.

* * *

"Mr. President?" Charlie announced not too long after that as he slipped into the Oval during a staff meeting. "The First Lady is on her way over from the Residence."

"Now?" Bartlet inquired, glancing up in surprise and nearly displacing the memos on his lap as he turned.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Charlie." He turned back toward the staff and raised his eyebrows as Charlie exited.

"Is everything all right, sir?" Leo asked first, when the other staffers seemed to hesitate.

"As far as I know," the President answered, lifting his hands a little in confusion.

The door from the walkway opened.

"Good morning, Jed," Abbey greeted. "Thank you," she added to her escort as they withdrew. She placed her burdens on the floor. "We have something to show you."

"Yes?" Bartlet came and peered at his honorary granddaughters. Leo, Sam, Josh, Toby, Carol and Donna all stood as well, coming to stand behind the President as they looked the pair over.

"It's something good. Here, come on," she added, unbuckling Samantha and handing her off to Toby, then giving her namesake into Donna's hands. "Set their feet on the floor," she instructed.

Leo cracked a grin as the two girls stood, adult hands surrounding them but not touching.

The President got it and backed away from Toby and Donna a little bit. "Can you come to Grandpa?" he invited, smiling broadly.

The girls looked around with mildly confused expressions, as if to ask why all their parents were standing around when they weren't crying, and then took a couple of steps forward. 

"That's great!"

"That's why you came over?" the President inquired of his wife under the sound of a happy staff.

"Yeah. They took a couple of steps about half an hour ago, and I wanted all of you to see it at once, so here I am. And now children have taken some of their first steps in the Oval Office, so we're a young, sexy administration."

"There was never any doubt about the sexy part," he responded, voice rumbling a little. Abbey laughed.

"Anyway, I realize you have to get back to running the country, but..."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bartlet," Josh said, turning away from the gaggle. 

For that time, their smiles were brightened, even if they knew how much fun toddlers were to keep track of. That was a very bearable day, and for a little while after that, the unbearable days were few and far between.

* * *

A hushed shiver of frustration, disappointment, and anxiety rushed through the offices of the Vice President.

A few Republicans, both in the House and in the Senate, smiled grimly and gloated to their closest staffers, telling them to be ready.

A chance meeting between a staffer for the President and a staffer for the Vice President let the line of communication be drawn, as their fellows continued unaware; the former in blissful ignorance and hope for a smooth second term, the latter frantically scanning the jobs section.

"Sam!"

"Coming!" Sam pounded away on the keyboard with vigor.

"Sam!" 

"Dammit, Toby, I'm typing!"

"Type faster!" A ball went thwack against the window between their offices.

"I am!"

Thwack.

Thwack. 

Finally Sam appeared around the corner. "Yeah?" 

"Is it ready?"

"Is what ready?" 

Toby tossed the ball back and forth in his hands. "The speech, Sam!" he reminded, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if his deputy even had a brain left.

"Which speech?" 

"The one for tonight!"

"Oh. I didn't give you that?"

"No," Toby replied, with an incredulous look.

"Oh. I'll go get it." Sam reappeared shortly and handed it over.

"This is a grouping of words. And how long is this paragraph, exactly?" Toby grumped.

"It's a good speech," Sam defended. Toby quirked his eyebrows up, still reading.

"Did Will help you?"

"He provided some inspirational assistance."

"What the hell's the matter with you?" his boss asked, waving the papers around.

"What'd I do?" 

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure not enough!" 

"I'm wooing my boss's daughter, Toby, what do you want from me?"

"A little concentration."

Bonnie knocked on the door.

"Go away!" they shouted in concert.

"I think you should see this." She stepped forward and handed a slip of paper to Toby.

He unfolded it. Sam watched in alarm as the other man's eyebrows made a leap for the ceiling as his mouth dropped open in surprise. He reread the note several times, as if willing it to change, and finally looked up. 

"Get Josh," he directed. "Bonnie, I need Leo in the next time he's got."

They both piled out the door hastily, and left Toby staring at the note.

* * *

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know." Josh laid his head back and lifted his eyes despairingly to the ceiling.

"You never heard anything about-" Toby started.

"No. Not even a whisper." He sighed and leaned into Donna's gentle embrace.

"What do we do?" Sam inquired, eyeing the note warily.

"How did we find out?" Carol asked.

"Bonnie brought it into my office about half an hour ago," Toby responded. "She got it passed to her by one of Hoynes' staffers when she was in the OEOB." 

"So the press-"

"I don't think so, no."

"I'm going to go over there before going to the President," Leo asserted.

"Leo..." Josh started, sitting up and looking at him.

"No, Josh. You stay clear away from this. I need you to catch any whispers on the Hill. Donna, that goes for you too."

"Right." Donna made a double notation in her book, and glanced at Josh again. "You okay?" she whispered. Josh's eyes were suspiciously shiny.

"I'm fine," he whispered back. "It's just... I don't know. Disappointing. I know he's not the real thing, but I thought he was better than this."

"Ahem," Leo interrupted.

"Sorry." Donna brushed a hand against Josh's cheek and focused on Leo, smiling apologetically. 

"What does this do to the agenda?"

"I think we can kiss the agenda goodbye for the moment, Sam."

"Is he even going to stay the Vice President?" Toby asked.

"I think that depends," Leo answered grimly. "Carol, keep it as low as you can."

"Slow news day," she noted. "I'll keep them focused on Zoey's graduation." 

"Can we emphasize the First Lady for the moment?" Donna suggested, glancing back and forth between them.

"Be careful," Leo answered, shorthand for 'Okay, but if you manage to piss off the President, you're on your own'.

"When are you going over?"

"In a couple of hours. I have some meetings that can't be pushed back." Leo stood. "Before I go over, I need a rough estimate on whether or not there's anyone in Congress aware of this."

"We'll get it for you," Josh told him, rising with determination.

* * *

"Who knows?" the President inquired.

"Um, obviously the Majority Leader's office... probably a number of ranking Republicans in both houses. There's no indication they've leaked it to the press yet, but I'm sure they're saving it for something," Josh simplified. There was no need to detail all of the careful and casual drop-ins he and Donna had been making today, or the casual phone calls, or the ultra-intense observations of body language, phrasing, and tone of voice.

No one in the room but Leo had spoken to either of the parties involved today.

"Once this breaks, other individuals will come forward; true or not, we'll have to deal with it."

"We can deal with it quite nicely by asking the Vice President if he would please resign," Toby answered Leo.

"Yeah, no, I don't want to do that yet," Bartlet interceded.

"Sir," Josh worried. 

"Josh, all of you, do you remember why Hoynes stayed on the ticket last year even when Bruno, or whomever, was saying there was no good electoral reason to keep him there?"

"Because you might die," Carol responded solemnly.

"That's right," he nodded. "That's still the case. We don't lose this Vice President until we've exhausted all other options." 

"The DNC isn't going to be happy," Sam warned. 

"They can deal with it." The President leaned forward. "Do any of you know this individual?"

"Ann Stark?" Toby responded. "I did something stupid a couple of years ago when she was the newly named Chief of Staff to the Majority Leader."

"Was that the thing with the-" Josh started.

"Yes," Toby cut him off.

"Okay, Toby, you're staying as far away from this as possible," Leo directed.

"Yeah."

"I need to talk to Hoynes," the President noted. He was immediately met with a storm of protest. "I don't care; there's not even midterms this year. President to Vice President, he's getting asked just what the hell he was thinking, and how many others, if any, and he's also getting told that he doesn't get to resign until I ask for it." He slipped his glasses back on and bent his gaze to the memo in his lap. "What's next?"

They all traded uncertain glances, then turned back to their leader. "We need to talk about arrangements for Zoey's graduation," Carol started.

* * *

"Sir?" Charlie stepped in. "The Vice President."

The President lifted his gaze from the most recent file he was reading and directed the full impact of his focus to the outer office. "Yeah." He rose as the other man walked in. "Can I get you anything?" he asked evenly. May as well start this off like any other meeting.

"No, thank you, sir," Hoynes answered just as evenly. "I don't think this will take very long."

"Oh, really?" The President waved him into a chair and took a seat.

"Sir, I know that the Republican leadership knows, and they know I know that they know, and I also know that you know."

"Quite right. I've had my staff doing quite the dance today to find out as much as possible without tipping our hand and sending us into the news cycle from hell." His gaze turned to blue fire, voice protective. It was Hoynes' problem, but it was _his_ staff that had been out waltzing on a skinny tree branch today.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry." He had dropped his gaze before the sheer protective anger in the other's eyes, and now hesitantly raised his head again. "Mr. President, I'm here to offer my res-" 

"No."

"Sir, it would be best if you-" 

"No."

"Mr. President, I cannot fulfill the duties of my office with this-" he tried again.

"John, you're the last person who should be talking about the duties of your office right now. You jumped into bed with the opposition, quite literally, and you've put me and my staff in a very difficult position, to say nothing of your staff, who are all probably trying to find jobs on the other side of the country right now!" 

"That's why I have to-"

The President interrupted him with the force of his headshake, refusing the easy way out a fourth time. "Absolutely not."

"Sir, I'm curious as to why you won't do what's clearly politically expedient." Hoynes was now the one with eyes of blue fire, but it was a puzzled fire, his political mind trying to work around this apparently idealistic move.

"Because you're the Vice President, John, and whether you like it or not, you're my Vice President. You're there for a reason: to step up in the event I become unable to discharge the duties of my office." He paused. "There are more politically advantageous individuals to hold that office right now; candidates that would make this administration look better and could challenge the Republicans in three years. But I didn't pick them and I don't trust them."

"You trust me, sir?"

"To do this job? Yes, I do." 

Hoynes adjusted his tie a little before responding. "You're not concerned that I gave the launch codes to the Republicans?" 

"Did you?"

"No."

"Well, then, there's nothing to be worried about."

"Mr. President-"

"John, we explored replacing you on the ticket last year." At his second's astounded silence, he elaborated. "They were looking at electoral math, and started looking at candidates. Do you know why you stayed on the ticket?" 

"No, sir."

"Because I might die." This was delivered with the same calm, even tone with which he had handed the piece of paper to Leo last year.

John Hoynes could only stare at his onetime opponent, listening to the clock ticking, breathless with the straightforwardness of the statement... and with what it implied.

"How are you feeling, sir?" he finally inquired.

The President's face stilled a little, and he focused on Hoynes again. "About as well as you can expect under the circumstances." The Vice President considered this, and slowly nodded.

"Because you might die," he sighed. It was an agreement. "Yes, sir. However, sir, if you don't mind me asking, how do you think you can keep this under control once it comes out?"

"You mean, how do you think I can keep an adulterer Vice President of the United States? We're working on it, but it appears that this may well have been deliberate."

"Really."

"Yeah. I've got Josh and Donna working on it."

"Josh must be very disappointed right now," Hoynes noted.

"A little bit, yeah, but then, he was disappointed when he found out about my thing, too. He'll live."

"Donna's working strategy?"

"She's pretty sharp. In fact, she's the one that picked up on the possibility this might have been arranged." 

"Then she's smarter than I am."

"John, you still can't run in three years."

"I know, sir," he admitted softly. "I can't imagine the news that you're giving the White House to the Republicans in three years will be well taken."

"Not so much, no. But I'm not responsible for the crappy state this party keeps falling into."

Hoynes allowed himself a smile, and then looked over at the President. His eyes were twinkling a little. They both chuckled a bit.

"No, it's not that funny," the older man admitted once they stopped. "But it's true, it really is." He stood. "We'll do what we can, but you're probably going to have to be a little low-profile for a while."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. President."

Once outside the office, Hoynes took a deep breath, then looked over at the President's aide.

"Do you need anything, sir?" the younger man inquired.

"No, thank you." He let his eyes close for a moment and ran his hands over his face, then back over his hair. "I don't even know what that was," he muttered.

"You've led before," Charlie responded, moving some manila envelopes into the outgoing box. "We know you can do it; and he doesn't like kicking people off his team." With that, he paused, as if to ask whether he really should have said that aloud.

The Vice President, for his part, was staring in amazement, and not just because he hadn't realized he'd spoken loud enough for the other to hear. "Thank you, Charlie," he finally said, straightening. "Good night."

"Good night, Mr. Vice President."

* * *

"If someone sees us, they're going to call the police."

"Are you saying you're not enjoying this?" 

"Toby..."

"Okay." He gently took the blindfold off and watched Andi blink at the house.

"Why you'd bring me to-"

"It's our house. Your house," he amended.

"Toby," she said again.

"Come on in," he answered, taking her arm and guiding her up the walk. 

"You bought this house?" she inquired several minutes later, as they looked out on the backyard.

"Yeah." 

"Why?"

"I want you to have it. Also, will you please marry me again?"

Andi sighed and threw her hands up in the air with a frustrated little smile. "Why do I need a house?"

"Because Huckleberry and his sister are going to need whatever they can have, and I want them, and you, to have this. Will you marry me again?"

"Toby," she sighed. "Why are you doing this?"

He glanced down at his feet and shuffled them a little bit, fidgeting all over, his expression working through a thousand subtleties. "Because," he finally answered, looking back up, his eyes perfectly focused on her.

"It didn't work the first time, Toby; what makes you think it'll work the second time?"

"I can change," he noted quietly. A peculiar expression Andi only identified later as guilt moved swiftly over his face.

"I don't know, Toby. I don't... I just don't know. I'm moved you would do this for me, but there are some things I'm not certain of." 

"I can take care of children at the office," he remarked. "My colleagues can take care of children at the office. There are playpens in the West Wing. Andrea, I want to be a father. Please let me in."

"We can raise the twins without getting married again," she observed mildly, head tilted to study him.

"Yes." He raised his eyebrows at her. 

"And...?" she prompted.

"I want to marry you again anyway." He stepped up to her and took her hands gently in his.

"Toby," she sighed again with exasperation. "Why?"

He exhaled sharply, and fidgeted with just his eyes. "I didn't do it right the first time, the first times."

Andi's eyes changed, glimmering with understanding. "Are you referring to us?"

"Yes." 

"But not just us."

"No."

She nodded. "I don't think you've let the children down." 

"They're young, so there's plenty of time for that, and I wasn't just talking about the kids." He released one hand for a moment to brush her hair back a little.

"You don't want to fail me the way you think you failed CJ," she said softly.

"I did fail CJ."

"Toby..." she blinked and looked out the window.

"I failed CJ, and I don't want to fail you. I don't want to, I don't want to let you down."

"You haven't let me down, Pokey," she laughed softly. "You will be a part of this, Toby, you really will. I just... I don't know if I can do this right now." 

Something moved and changed in Toby's eyes; memory of a frustrated push to be in charge flashed in them, and he nodded, smiling just a little behind his beard. "Okay," he assented, leaning in to kiss her gently. "Okay."

"Thank you," she answered, squeezing his hands. Then she frowned a little.

Toby had turned back to face the backyard. "Would you like to see more of the house?"

"Toby." 

He turned back. Andi was frozen in place, staring ahead with an expression of thoughtful panic.

"Andrea?"

"I think my water just broke."

His hands tightened convulsively about hers, so much that she flinched, and he stood frozen in place too, for a moment, going back to his office and thinking, wondering, as he had stood there over a year ago, clothes torn in the anguish of grief, when CJ had known she was going to bring forth two new lives with the worst possible timing...

Toby snapped back to the present suddenly, still rooted to the spot and staring at Andi. "Come on," he managed. "Let's get you to the hospital."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Andi asked him, flinching with another contraction.

He looked down at her and just squeezer her hands tighter. "Yeah." 

"You look like you're about to pass out, Pokey," she grimaced. "I just want them to worry about me."

"I'm fine," he lied. "Grab on to whatever you need to when they start getting worse."

"This is worse enough for me," she declared, rolling her eyes. "And whatever?" 

"You are a bad, bad woman," he answered, smirking with his eyes.

"That's not why you want to marry me again?"

"Oh, it is."

"Ow!" 

"Is she all right?" Toby worried to the doctor. 

"She's doing fine, Mr. Ziegler."

"I'm over here," she tugged on his arm.

"Are you sure?" 

"There's nothing wrong, sir."

"Toby," Andi said urgently. He turned to her. "There's nothing wrong. Except for being in labor, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked her.

"Toby, there's nothing wrong," she repeated forcefully, staring at him. "Are you okay?" 

"I should be asking you that."

"Toby!" 

"You're sure?"

"Toby, I'm okay. It's okay." She met his eyes with a gaze full of worry, wondering if his burden of guilt would send him out of the room or into a painful and eloquent rant before the twins were born.

He sighed. "Okay," he agreed, stroking her forehead. "I'll, um... ow, Andi, I might need those hands again."

"Sorry," she panted.

"No, no, I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She leaned back fully and stared at the ceiling for a minute, counting.

"Is this a bad time to ask you to marry me again?" he inquired after the next contraction. 

"Yes!" Andi shouted.

Toby still asked her four more times in the next five hours. He wondered, watching Andi bear down, sweat dampening her hair and making the fine strands around her face curl a little, why he kept asking her at what he had to admit were somewhat strange times.

Perhaps it was because he knew there wouldn't always be a good time.

"Toby," Andi called, panting. "Almost... there?"

"Yeah." He took her hands more firmly in his and bent over her, kissing her gently a couple of times. She just rolled her eyes, then leaned into him for the next contraction.

If anyone had asked either of them afterward how long they spent with their hands linked, faces partly buried in each other's shoulders, they would have said anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours. All Andrea remembered afterward was leaning back a little in relief as the doctor said congratulations for the second time, for it was then she saw Toby's face. He had lifted his head to meet her eyes, smiling a little with that muted pure joy he had sometimes, but he was crying, his body trembling in tune with the unaccustomed tears tracking down his face. 

They could barely feel their fingers after leaving them clenched together for so long, but they tightened again, Andi then smiling and releasing one hand to lay it against Toby's cheek.

"You all right?" she whispered.

He smiled a rare, rare smile. "I'm fine," he whispered back, laying his own freed hand along her cheek in turn. "I'm fine, Andrea."

And she took a deep breath and turned back to meet her son and daughter.

* * *

"Josh?" Donna said softly, coming up behind him. He turned, a little startled.

"You should be wearing a bell," he remarked, smirking a little.

"Yeah, right." She lifted one eyebrow and folded her arms.

"Okay, no bell." He wrapped his arms around Donna and kissed her a few times, gently.

"Feel better now?" she inquired, smiling.

"I'll be good for a few minutes, so you'd better hurry."

"So if I have something to discuss, I have about five minutes for it?"

"That's not any different than usual." He tried to kiss her ear, but she pushed him away gently.

"Later, you idiot."

"Oh, such romance," he joked.

"Josh..."

"Donna, what is it?"

"Do you ever think about-" she hesitated. Two years ago she wouldn't have even dared to bring up dating; they'd only been married a little over six months, but she was curious. Oh. Married to Josh. She could feel herself wandering, and finished her sentence, ignoring the romance for a minute. "-about having kids?"

Josh stopped moving, his hands still cupped lightly around her elbows. His brow quirked a little. "Children?"

"Yeah. I was just wondering... we're bound to discuss it sometime, and I just-"

"No, no, I mean..." he rubbed a hand through his hair. "I've thought about it too. A, uh, lot more the last couple of weeks." 

"Toby and Andi?" she guessed.

"Toby asked me to do something if he can't do it." Donna nodded; he didn't have to elaborate, and they'd discussed it as well. "But our kids..." Josh gazed into the middle distance. "Yeah. I mean, it would make my mom stop bugging me about grandkids, but honestly, Donna, and I... I don't want you to take this as anything against you or, uh anything like that... it scares the crap out of me." He looked down, face uncertain.

Donna lifted one hand to his chin. "No, it's okay. I understand. I watched Toby whenever Andi came over, and... I understand, Josh."

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, very gently. "Thank you."

"Is the fear enough to make you not want to have children, though, is the question," Donna continued.

"I don't know," Josh admitted with an uncertain smirk. "Part of me thinks we should wait until we're out of the White House... I mean, it's taking five or six of us to raise Samantha and Abigail..." 

"There'll never be a good time," she reminded. 

"Yeah." He brought both hands up to run them over her hair. "Maybe we should just--I think it's too soon--I don't want to lose you," he finally blurted. Donna met his gaze with surprise.

"It's okay. You're not going to lose me," she assured him. Josh sighed and sat down, pulling Donna into his lap.

"That's quite a promise, there," he murmured into her shoulder.

"I meant it."

"I know."

"So... we'll talk about this, and many other things, later?"

"Mmm-hmm."

* * *

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in marrying me."

"Huh?"

"I said..." 

"No, yeah, I heard you; I'm sorry, uh..." he trailed off and stared at the woman across from him, who calmly took another piece of chicken on her fork and ate it, watching him. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, and took a few bites of his own meal, then picked up the glass and regarded it before drinking half the contents.

All the while, the mischievous-eyed individual across from him watched his every move with a slight smile.

Finally, he said, "I'm sorry, did you ask-"

"Yes, I asked you to marry me." 

"Why?"

"You're too chicken to ask me." 

"Doesn't that also make me too chicken to be your husband, making the whole point moot?"

"No. The woman's always in charge; you'll just be one of the husbands who admits it."

"Okay..." He paused and thought, giving her his full regard. "Why am I too chicken?" 

"You're scared of my dad."

"Lots of people are scared of your dad."

"Yeah, but you're really scared of what his response would be should you ask for my hand in marriage, so I'm saving you the trouble."

He sighed. "Zoey..."

"Don't you want to marry me?"

"I do, but I also don't want to be transferred to Siberia the day after tomorrow!"

"You won't be," she told him calmly.

"How do you know?" Charlie demanded.

"How do you think you got the evening off?" 

He aimed his fork at her. "You planned this." 

Zoey nodded. "I already asked my dad. He's okay with it. So... Charlie..."

"Did the President specify that there be a twenty-year engagement?"

"No..." she smiled.

"Okay. Well. Zoey Patricia Bartlet, you are the most wonderful woman I know, and even if your dad fires me tomorrow, I will be a happy man."

She giggled. "That's sweet of you, Charlie." Zoey glanced down and then back up at him with an even bigger smile, in that particular mannerism she had. "So... is that a yes?"

"Yeah." He reached across the table. "Even though I will probably be subjected to trivia on the ancient Egyptians tomorrow."

"Good luck." She squeezed his hands in hers, and twined their fingers together. They just sat there for a while, enjoying the moment of quiet.

"You know, a lot of people aren't going to like this."

"They can deal with it," Zoey shrugged. 

"Zoey, I don't want crazy people shooting your dad and Josh again because we're together, forever this time."

"It'll be okay."

"You're just saying that."

"Yeah. It can be your first act as my fiance, to trust me."

Charlie regarded her, then started smiling. "I'm glad you're on my side," he admitted, shaking his head a little.

"Oh, you only think that; I'm still a member of the Sisterhood." 

"Am I in trouble for something?"

"Not yet..." They laughed together.

As it happened, Charlie was wrong about the Egyptians. When he went in the next morning, the President took one glance at him and immediately started discussing nearby monasteries and convents. "It's not too late, Charlie; it's a wonderful life. I should know; I came this close to living that way myself."

"It's going to be an unbearable day," he muttered as he brought in a stack of memos for the President.


	25. It Would Remain A Stupid Idea

_It Would Remain A Stupid Idea_

"You guys almost ready?" Sam stepped into Josh and Donna's apartment.

"Almost!" Donna called, rushing through the room and vanishing back toward the bedrooms. 

"Having these two over goes a lot better when they actually sleep," Josh noted, coming out from the kitchen.

"You have mismatched socks," Sam told him.

"Donna!" 

"Fold your own socks!" she yelled back. "And leave me alone or come get them ready for me!"

"I'll do it. You can do... the thing." Sam waved an arm in the general direction of the bedrooms and followed it when it appeared Donna wasn't going to protest.

"It's cold, come on," she was pleading as Sam poked his head around the door. Samantha noticed him first and squealed a little.

"Daddy Sam!" She tumbled over in his direction, followed by her sister and a despairing eyeroll from Donna.

"Hey!" He picked her up and tapped her nose gently. "How are you doing?" 

"Warm," she declared.

"Daddy up?" Abigail requested, tugging on his suit coat.

"You have to get ready to go," he informed them, setting Sam down. "Come on, let Mommy Donna put your coats and shoes on."

"Uh-uh." 

"Now, Abigail, that's not very nice." Sam picked up her shoes and set them down. "Come on. Or you won't be able to play with-" she put her feet in the shoes with a little pouty sigh.

"Daddy Josh," Abigail said cheerfully as she held onto Sam's shoulders while he buckled her shoes.

"Hi. Are you ready?"

"Ask Mommy."

Josh lifted an inquiring eyebrow at his wife.

"Almost." She squeezed Sam into her coat and checked Abigail's. "I can't wait until we can move..."

Josh made a face, but it was too late.

"You're moving?" Sam asked.

"We want a real house, since Donna spilled the beans."

"Sorry, Josh!"

"No, no, it's okay... we just want more space, that's all."

"Thinking of starting a family?" Sam nudged them out of the room, taking a quick glance at his watch.

"We already have one."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, we're discussing kids." Josh smiled and gave Donna a kiss as he put his coat on.

"We haven't completely decided yet," Donna added, snatching up her bags.

"Speaking of which, when are you going to ask Mallory to marry you?" Josh asked with a smirk.

"At some point when I'm not scared of Leo convincing the President to send me on a two-year advance trip to Australia."

"They have regular flights to Australia."

"Antarctica, then. Let's go."

"Oh, are we going to be late?" Josh checked his watch.

"That's your anniversary present, right there," Donna told him.

The twins giggled as Josh got a disconcerted expression. He turned slowly to Sam. 

"Did they come with knowledge of the Sisterhood?" Sam asked first. He looked at Donna suspiciously, who just shrugged her shoulders.

"I think they got lessons in utero," Josh griped. "Donna, we're having a boy first."

"It's all up to you, buster."

"Hey, there are tender ears present," Sam objected. Samantha and Abigail just giggled. 

"Oh, this is going to turn out to be a stupid idea," Josh moaned as they finally exited the apartment. "I just hope we can put them in the Residence if it gets too busy."

"I'm sure that's not going to happen."

* * *

"Ball, Daddy Toby?" a pert voice inquired from just below his beard.

"Not now, sweetie." He wrinkled his forehead a little bit, looking at the screen. 

"Please?"

"Daddy has to write, Abigail." He gave her a little squeeze with one arm and then placed his hands above the keyboard again.

"Toby?" Bonnie stepped in. "You wanted a half hour warning." 

"Yeah."

"Half an hour."

"Thank you."

"Hi," the toddler smiled.

"Hi, honey." Bonnie smiled back and retreated.

Abigail tossed the ball at one of the TVs.

Toby sighed and moved her on his lap so he could look her in the eye, more or less. "Abigail, please do not throw the ball inside, okay?"

"Sorry." She pouted a little and wiggled off his lap.

"Not that I don't want to myself," he murmured, tapping the keyboard.

A few paragraphs passed before he was interrupted again. "Daddy Toby?" She stood on tiptoe, looking at the pictures on his desk. 

Toby looked that way, and stilled completely, staring. Abigail had worked her way around his desk and back again, and now stood on his right side, pointing at one of the frames.

"Who that?" she asked innocently, unaware of the shock in her father's eyes.

"Someone I loved very much," he said. "She worked here..."

"I meet her?" 

"She's not here anymore."

"Why, Daddy?"

"Uh..." he paused, wondering if it was even possible to explain death to a toddler, and looking at the framed shot of CJ, her eyes focused and thinking, watching the reporter asking the question. He thought it was probably someone from the third row, and judging by the slant of her eyebrows they hadn't been asking a terribly intelligent question at the time. "She had to leave," he finally said, taking a frequent copout. "Are you ready to go see Uncle Charlie?"

"Yay!" she agreed, grinning and taking a step back from the desk, then dashing around to pick up his ball and hand it to him as he rose.

"Thank you," he said, setting it in a drawer and taking her hand while shooting another glance at the former object of her attention.

* * *

"How's the budget coming along?" the President inquired that afternoon.

"It's coming," Josh sighed. "They'd like us to cut a few things, we'd like them to cut a few things... it's coming."

"Remember that we're not selling the store," Leo directed.

"Yeah, they wanted the tuition thing cut and we said no way," his deputy agreed.

Toby sat and let the conversation move around him.

"Toby," Sam said for the third time.

"Yeah," he responded, looking up.

"Are you all right?" 

"That's why you were calling my name?"

"I was calling your name to ask you if you were done with the speech for next week, since the President had already asked you three times without a response, but now I'm just calling your name to see if you're still on the same planet."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm polishing it. It'll be done by tomorrow."

"What's going on, Toby?" Leo asked from his chair.

"Nothing." He looked down at his notes. "I'm sorry, the budget meetings are...?"

"We finished talking about that over ten minutes ago," Josh told him.

"What's wrong?" Leo requested again.

Toby sighed, shifted, and finally decided he may as well tell them. They were all involved, after all. "This morning, Abigail asked about one of my pictures of CJ." 

The moment of stillness mirrored Toby's initial response to the innocent question. Finally, the President sighed and lifted one hand. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"What'd she ask?"

"Who the person in the picture was, and why they weren't here anymore."

Leo and Josh closed their eyes. Carol reached over and patted his knee.

"I told Abigail the person had to leave," Toby admitted.

"That's about as good of an answer as you can give at that age, Toby," Bartlet told him.

"Yeah, but... at some point they're both going to want more of an answer than that."

"And we will give them that answer when they ask it," Leo declared. 

"Yeah, but we're not all going to say it the same way," Sam noted.

"We need to talk about it," Donna agreed. "But I think it can wait a little."

Toby just nodded wearily, and the meeting moved on.

* * *

The effective leaders of both parties faced each other across the table. One met the other's gaze steadily, waiting for his demand, his request, his push to make himself more powerful, while the other looked at the older one, gauging his level of weakness and noting that he was lacking a certain determined fire, just as his staff had been lacking it during the negotiations.

Finally, the Speaker of the House shifted and made his request.

"It's going to have to be a bigger cut."

Josh and Donna, sitting back in a corner of the Roosevelt Room, sat up in alarm, looking upset. They'd had an agreement... and now the opposition was trying to upset the boat. Gain more power. Weaken the White House. 

For a long, long several minutes, the President met the gaze of the third man in the line of succession.

At last, he seemed to make his decision, bowing his head and clasping his hands together with a thoughtful look. Josh held his breath, and tugged at Donna's sleeve a little, making her turn that way too.

"I don't think so."

"Sir, you have to take this." 

"I really don't. You know why, Mr. Speaker?" The President placed his hands flat on the table and turned his full focus on Haffley.

"No, sir, I don't."

"Because I'm done with both our parties screwing each other and the American people over just so we can have our way for our two seconds of fame. I'm done with your party trying to blackmail my White House. And I am done, Mr. Speaker, with your weak and petty attempt to trip up negotiations that both your people and mine have spent weeks on. In other words, we are going to sit here until we get a budget, Mr. Speaker, and it's going to be the one we agreed on before you waltzed in here with your delusions of power."

"Mr. President-" the younger man started.

Josh and Donna were gaping at the squared-off pair.

"I don't want to hear it. I want to hear that we have a budget that you haven't sabotaged." The President stood and leaned forward, hands still on the table, and practically glared. "If you're under the impression that this White House is weak, think again. Josh and Donna have been the lead people in this from here; they're going to stick around until we have a budget, and you're not going to screw around, because while Donna looks like a nice young woman, and she is, she's also very smart, and she doesn't like people double-crossing her." He turned away. "Finish the damn budget."

"Sir, I don't think you can do this," the Speaker tried to protest.

"Fancy that. I'm doing it anyway. You know why?"

"No, sir."

"Because we can bitch at each other later about how bad the other's party is, but that's not as important as keeping this country running, and it's high time you folks realized that you don't get to hold up the biggest credit line in the world just so you can get what you want. Settle the budget. We'll have someone bring you in some coffee and sandwiches later." He pulled open a door and left.

The two White House staffers stood there for a moment, staring after their leader, and then turned to the table. "Okay," Josh started, taking a seat.

"Let's talk about the spending in section five," Donna suggested.

The Speaker of the House had all he could do not to grind his teeth together. Every time you tried to catch the Bartlet White House out in a moment of weakness or relaxation or scandal, they seemed to always be able to come back and kick you right back to where you started.

The worst part was that the President was right.

* * *

"Okay, did I miss the alien invasion that replaced the House of Representatives with, you know, actual people?" Josh gawked at the proposed bill before him.

"Hey," Toby objected from his desk. "That's the mother of my children you're talking about, there."

"I think Josh meant to leave out Congresswoman Wyatt," Sam said, peering over his friend's shoulder.

"She's also one of the authors of the bill," Donna noted.

"This is a good bill. It's too good to be true."

"Josh, we can always use good news, even if it never passes," Carol answered him from her spot by the TV sets.

"How can they not pass this? This is..." Josh waved both hands at it.

"... something we could have used earlier, Josh. I am aware of that, and so is the Congresswoman from Maryland," Toby came back.

"What do you want to do?" Donna asked.

"Let's push it. Bipartisan. It's tough on crime and ups family values."

"It also espouses sex education that's not abstinence only," she pointed out.

"They can swallow it," Josh said, seeming to bounce even though he was still sitting down, staring at the bill.

"We're going to help this pass." There were nods all around.

"I thought I might find all of you here." Leo appeared in the doorway.

"Leo, have you seen this bill? It's great... it's got-"

"Yeah, we're going to have to put it on hold for a bit."

"What happened?"

Leo stepped in and shut the door. "No press yet. However, we've received information about a threat to a major Gulf city, so that's what the next week is about." 

"Which city?"

"When?"

"Houston, in the next couple of days or so, possibly. We're still trying to track down the latest information, but it appears that there's a cargo ship with some explosives on board heading that direction. It's in Mexican waters right now, so we've got that to work around, as well as where the boat came from."

"It came from Qumar, didn't it?" Toby guessed after a horrible pause.

"What kind of-" Sam started. "No."

"That's what they think."

"Dirty?" Josh gasped.

"Yeah." 

"This is about the base, or something else?" Donna asked.

"I think it's mostly about this is Qumar. I'll have more for you as soon as possible; you'll be getting a briefing on this sometime in the next half hour, but it'll just be elaborating on what I told you. Toby, Sam, get together with Will again and get some statements ready. Josh and Donna, make sure we're not going to trip over anything legislative while we're focused on this, and Carol, wait to brief on this until you get the sign from Toby." 

"Where are the twins?" Josh asked suddenly, an odd panic spreading across his features.

"Zoey's got them." There were sighs all around, and Leo turned to go. "Everyone got what they're doing?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll keep you updated."

After the door closed again, Josh rolled his head around on the back of the couch, groaning softly with frustration.

"We'll get it, just not now," Sam assured as he stood up.

"Everyone except Sam go away," Toby directed. "Ginger!"

* * *

"It's happening?" Sam tapped on the door to the Oval Office.

"We think so." Leo stood by the President's desk, watching as he flipped through various folders and photos. "We've been deployed out there and on alert the past few days, so it was just a matter of being in the right spot at the right time. Donna, Toby, come on in."

"When do we know?" Toby asked as he stopped by one of the couches.

"They're prepping a SEAL team now, and then they'll approach the suspect ship. What they do will determine what we do, and whether or not we've got the right one."

"We don't know?" Will asked as he stepped in, Charlie quietly closing the door after him.

"There's an awful lot of cargo ships out there," Leo reminded.

"But it's likely to be done in the next few hours?" Donna inquired, opening her briefing book.

"Yeah." Leo looked around. "Where's Josh?"

"He's out at the place," Donna said softly.

"Now? During this?" Toby demanded, running a hand over his head.

"It's the day, Toby, what did you expect?" Sam retorted in defense. 

"Yeah, okay," the President said from his place at the desk. "Are the statements ready?"

"Will, are the statements ready?" Toby asked him.

"Yeah. I mean, yes, they are."

"Is yours really ready?" Sam insisted.

"Yes..." Will drew out slowly, a puzzled look on his face. "We're only going to need one, right?" 

"Yours is the one we use if this doesn't go well," Toby told him.

"Oh." Will's mouth fell open. "It's ready."

"Okay." Toby raised an eyebrow at him, but turned back to the President.

"We wait." 

"Okay." Sam made a few circuits of the couches, forehead wrinkled in a frown.

"I don't understand where Josh is," Will finally said after several minutes.

There was a pause of terrible quiet, as the old guard, the friends, met each other's eyes uneasily.

"Someone's got Sam and Abigail?" Leo wanted to know.

"Carol's got them," Sam assured in a low voice.

"They're not in the office-" Toby started. Sam just shook his head. "Okay."

"I don't get it," Will noted in puzzlement.

Charlie knocked and stepped in with a note. The President read it and seemed to relax and tense at the same time. "They're ready. This next part could take a while. You're sure Fitz has everything under control?" he asked Leo.

"He's got it unless something really out of the ordinary happens."

"Like this whole thing isn't out of the ordinary?" Bartlet snorted.

"Fair point, sir."

Will was still looking from one to the other with great confusion. Finally, Donna took partial pity on him. "Josh is out of the building for a few hours."

"During a major national crisis?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Josh sighed and rocked back and forth a little; his feet were almost numb, but he was staying there until he felt he'd... what was he doing? Was he memorializing? Paying homage? Speaking to one gone?

"You know, there's a major crisis in the Gulf right now, and I'm out here. I'm out here... I'm going to get my ass kicked when I get back in the building, you know that?" He squinted as a brighter shaft of sunlight slipped through the clouds, but didn't reach for his sunglasses.

"They're smart," he said softly. "And members of the Sisterhood, already. Wonderful friends, and so sweet, when they're not refusing to do something, like sleep or get dressed. They ask about you sometimes, you know. I mean, we've all got pictures on our desks or on the wall in the office... sometimes I wonder why we do that. The President does too. Right next to his other girls...

"I wonder what we're going to do," he mused. "They call us mommy and daddy... and at some point, they're going to have to know. It'd be a disservice not to, but I don't think any of us wants that particular responsibility. And we haven't decided how this is going to work after we're out of the White House, either. And Sam told me once that he'd told Mallory we need to protect them from politics. How do we do that? How is that even possible? What if they like this? What if they have your talent and skill, CJ? Would it be fair?" He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"I wonder if they're going to still love us after they know we're raising them because what we did killed their mother. I don't know," he swallowed, "if we'll ever be ready, even when we have our own families and after advice from Leo and the President, to take the step of telling them the whole truth, even though I think we have a responsibility to do so."

_Amazing how this is reflecting so many of my thoughts about the DC political arena, isn't it? And my feet are frozen and I don't know what else to say. I should get back. I just... I'm so not ready for this._

* * *

"So they got it?" Josh asked with a sigh of relief.

Leo looked up. "Yeah."

"Was it what we thought it was?" Sam asked.

"Yes. It was a dirty bomb headed for a major Gulf coast city which would have contaminated a huge area and killed who knows how many people." 

"Can I tear up the statement I wrote now?" Will asked desperately.

"That would involve getting it back, wouldn't it?" Toby inquired of him.

"Well, yeah..." 

"No." Donna and Sam smiled faintly at the disconcerted expression on Will's face.

"Is the lid on?" Carol checked with Leo and Toby.

"Yeah. There'll be a briefing with the State Department and probably Defense tomorrow morning; we anticipate 10 or 11 o'clock."

"Right. Thanks." She scribbled it down in her notebook and stood up. 

Leo looked at the couch as Carol exited. "You two look ready for bed," he advised.

"Yeah, I heard they didn't sleep much this afternoon," Sam said, lifting his namesake from her curled-up position on Leo's couch. She blinked sleepily and pushed an absentminded fist into his shoulder.

"Yeah, they're pretty much out," Josh added, brushing Abigail's hair back before picking her up as well.

"Daddy," she yawned absently. Josh just smiled and cuddled her more.

"What're you doing this weekend, Toby?" he asked, catching up his memos in the other hand.

Toby pursed his lips. "I have daddy time with Huckleberry and Claudia this weekend, Josh."

"Four of them would be a little too much?" Donna asked with a smile. 

"Just a little bit."

"Okay, have fun, Toby." Josh hesitated as the other man headed for the door. "Andi going to be there?"

Toby turned. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm staying at the house."

"That's great," Sam grinned.

"Go away," Toby glowered at him. "Good night."

"Night, Toby." 

"Night, Daddy," Samantha murmured into Sam's shoulder. Sam just smiled and patted her.

"We're getting you to bed."

"My office is a nursery," Leo complained with a grin. "You're turning this nation's capitol into a nursery school... my office, the Oval, Charlie's desk, the Mural Room..."

"They love you too, Leo," Donna teased lightly. He shook his head and came around the desk to kiss them good night.

"Also, we're not responsible for the time the President had them on his lap during a national security briefing," Sam defended.

"That was priceless," Josh snorted.

"Yeah. See you in the morning."

* * *

"It's a stupid idea."

"It is not." 

"It really is. We can't-"

"It's a perfectly legitimate way to-"

"I don't care!" 

"I've noticed!"

"You can't do it like this."

"Just watch me."

"We don't need to climb into bed with the people that tried to-" 

"-blackmail us over the Vice President and the budget! Yes, I know, Josh! I was there!"

"Thank you for seeing it my way."

"I'm not. We need to reach out to both sides of the aisle."

"No."

"Josh, you and Toby and Sam all agreed this should be bipartisan before the thing."

Pause.

"Okay."

"That's it?" Donna asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's it. Go get us a bipartisan bill."

"What happened to there being two breadwinners in this household?" 

"Uh-uhh... there still are. You came up with it, you do it."

"I won't be able to if you're doing your usual stomping all over everyone and being hostile, Joshua!"

"You know, it makes me really hot when you say my full name, Donnatella." 

"Josh!" she exclaimed.

"It does! And I will do my best to be nice."

"Josh, we want this bill, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can we do it my way?" Donna looked at him, eyes pleading, and Josh finally nodded.

"We'll talk about it in staff."

"You'll be on my side?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you." Donna turned around.

"But if it doesn't work, I'm telling the whole world it was your stupid idea," Josh called.

"So you want them to have a list of all of your stupid ideas?" she asked, turning back to face him.

"Um, that's a no."

"I'm going to go strategize." 

"I'll watch."

"Shut up."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Donna; I don't see how you can expect us to support this." Congressman Kirk took his glasses off and set them on the table. "We're all facing elections this year; how can you ask us to vote for a bill that supports sex ed that's not abstinence only?"

"It's a tie-breaker in a lot of our districts," added Congresswoman Souter. "I agree, it's got a lot of good things in it and I admire the authors of the bill for writing such a broad item during an election year." 

"That's right, it does have a lot of good things in it," Donna sighed. "One of them is emphasis on education, so that we can help our children learn about these things in a more constructive fashion."

"Our constituents won't see it that way, I'm afraid, and I'm not entirely sure I see it that way, either," Kirk answered.

"I understand, Congressman; if I ever have kids, I'd be upset if they went off and did something without telling me, but the fact is this is happening and it has been happening, and I think it's time we did something about it. There's far more in this bill that you agree with than you disagree with, right?"

"There's a number of parts we approve of, yes," Kirk agreed for them.

"Then tell your constituents that in the overall public interest, you voted for this bill in the name of compromise and reaching out across some very substantial political divides," Donna pleaded. "One of the bill's authors is a Republican!"

"That's true," Souter admitted. "We're happy with the incentives for families, although of course we'd prefer the government didn't try to regulate family."

"I'd prefer it too," Donna smiled. "However, I think that whatever the cause, our country has wound up in what's not necessarily a good place, and this helps us remember several important things."

"We'll seriously consider it," Kirk told her, looking from side to side for agreement. "You'll have an answer this afternoon."

"Thank you." Donna smiled and rose, reaching across the table to shake his hand.

"I'll vote for it," someone contributed suddenly from the end of the table.

"Thank you, Congressman," Donna answered, smiling brightly at the previously silent Ed Hoop.

"You're welcome, Donna," he said, shaking her hand and looking at his colleagues.

Kirk smiled a little and shook his head almost as slightly. "We'll get back to you," he repeated.

"Thank you all very much." 

Donna waited until they were gone before collecting her own materials from the table. They hadn't discussed the anti-crime provisions at all, but she also hadn't expected that to be an issue. Both parties and a large segment of the American public were in favor of stiffer penalties for certain crimes.

"Donna?" an assistant asked. "You have Congresswoman Wyatt and Congressman Anders in the Mural Room."

"Hi, Max," she greeted. "When did that happen?"

"About three minutes ago."

"Do you know why they're here?" 

"No."

"Okay, thanks," she told him, turning down the hall.

"Donna." Andrea Wyatt stood and smiled.

"Congresswoman," Donna smiled. "This is unexpected."

"Nothing's wrong with the bill, at least nothing that won't be fixed by about 300 'yea' votes," Wyatt assured her. "And of course you know Ben Anders."

"Of course," Donna smiled at him and shook his hand. "What can I do for you?"

"We did actually want to talk to you about the bill," Anders said. 

"I kind of figured, what with the two of you having written most of it."

"This is actually Congressman Anders' idea, so I'll let him tell you." She sat back.

"It's quite brief." The Congressman turned to her. "Some of my colleagues and I, and by that I mean a few fellow Republicans I sit on committees with, have been discussing the name of this bill." 

"I thought we agreed to call it the Family Education and Anti-Assault Act," Donna answered, puzzled. She didn't understand Andrea Wyatt's carefully impassive expression.

"We can still call it that, but we were talking about the common name for the bill, something a little easier to remember." Anders paused and smiled. "Donna, there's interest, which is so far unanimous among the dozen or so Representatives who have discussed it, in calling this the CJ Cregg Bill."

"There's a lot in here CJ would have approved of," Wyatt added into the silence. 

"Including the bipartisan cooperation that founded it, the President's recent smackdown of the Speaker of the House notwithstanding," Anders said with a slight smile.

"Donna?" Congresswoman Wyatt asked after a minute.

"I literally have no idea what to say," Donna finally managed. "Why this one?"

"If this bill is passed, there will be much stiffer penalties for-" Anders started. Donna shook her head. 

"Yeah, I know, I just... I'm sorry, I really don't know..." Donna took a deep breath. "I think I can tell you that the White House would have no objection."

Andi Wyatt smiled. "You'll take it to them?" her colleague asked.

"Yes, of course." Donna smiled at them. 

"Also, one other thing." Wyatt met the younger woman's gaze. "You know some Democratic members of the House have had reservations about certain family values aspects, just as some Republicans have reservations about the sex ed provisions." 

"Yeah, I just came out of a meeting about that." 

"Thanks to the dual endorsement of the President two years ago by so many women's groups and so many conservative groups," Anders explained, "and thanks to the fact that a lot of people liked Ms. Cregg, it's likely that between their own feelings and the people making their opinions known, renaming this bill could pick it up not only the rest of the Democratic vote, but also twenty or so Republican votes as well, despite the concerns on both sides of the aisle."

"I see. Okay." Donna took a huge breath. "Thank you both so much. I'll take this to Josh and Leo."

"Thank you, Donna." Ben Anders rose and shook her hand.

"I'll be right out," Andi told him. 

"Is the bill really all right?" Donna asked as he stepped out.

"Yeah."

"No riders or anything?"

"Nope."

"Okay," Donna sighed with relief.

"You have to fight Josh for the bipartisan angle?" Andi inquired with a smile.

"A little bit, yeah. He said it was stupid."

"Maybe it still is."

"I'm starting to think maybe it isn't," Donna chuckled. "How are Huck and Claudia?"

"Growing too fast. They also like to talk for hours on end, but Toby's been disappointed they're not speaking in complete sentences yet." 

"He kept hoping Sam and Abigail would spout oratory early on, too," Donna answered with a quiet smile. "We should get together sometime."

"Yeah." Andi slung her coat on. "Thanks for seeing us, and I'll talk to you later, right?"

Donna nodded. "I'm going to them right now."

* * *

"Aww, man, this is too good to be true," Josh protested for the umpteenth time as he watched the House getting ready to vote.

"Stop saying that before it actually becomes the case," Sam admonished him from where he was sitting. 

"How did this become bipartisan, again?" Carol asked blankly.

"I let Donna do something stupid," Josh responded.

"You did not!" Donna exclaimed, hitting him on the back of the head.

"Shut up, they're starting," Toby directed.

"It was potentially stupid," Josh continued in a whisper.

"It was not a stupid idea, and this proves it," Donna hissed back.

"You going to let me be right at all this year?" Josh inquired. Donna raised her eyebrows at him.

"I can think of a few ways..."

"Get a room," Carol griped at them. Sam looked that way and smirked.

"Wyatt. Wyatt of Maryland votes yea."

"That's it?" Leo asked. 

"Yep," Josh answered.

"Two nays from House Democrats and 38 nays from House Republicans, and that's it," Sam confirmed.

"Excellent," Josh grinned broadly, getting up to do a little dance with Donna.

They hardly noticed when Leo slipped out on Charlie's heels half an hour later. He looked frustrated when he came back in.

"What's wrong?"

Leo sighed. "Majority Leader's about to come out with the Hoynes thing."

"You're kidding." 

"How stupid-"

"What the hell is he doing?"

"Yeah, it's coming out."

"If we had lost this, it would still be a bad idea," Sam noted. 

"They'd be kicking us while we're down. Instead they're engaging in political retribution for us winning!" Josh said in frustration.

"So why are they doing it?" Will wanted to know.

"Because they can."

"It's a stupid idea," Donna murmured, one hand to her forehead. 

"Yes," Josh sighed. "It remains a stupid idea."

"Get ready." With that, Leo turned away from them and left the room, leaving them staring at each other with furrowed brows.


	26. I'm Not Taking Anyone With Me

_I'm Not Taking Anyone With Me_

"Listen up!" Carol bellowed again. The chaotic shouting just continued. She sighed and looked around in frustration. 

Another thirty seconds ticked by, as she gave the Press Corps more time to get the shouting out of their systems, to no avail. 

"Hey, LISTEN UP!" she tried again. "If you want any news, BE QUIET!"

And babylon continued.

"See you at 1!" she shouted, stepping down from the podium. That got their attention.

"Carol! Carol!"

"I'll be back at 1 pm," she said, turning just before the door. "If you wanted your White House news at 10 am instead of 1 pm, you should have stopped talking when I came in, or even the fifth time I called for you to listen up. You can still get your news at 1."

The door shut, and as the reporters looked at each other in embarrassed disgruntlement, Carol did a little dance on the other side of the door.

"Did you pay them to do that?" Josh wanted to know as he joined her in the hallway.

"No. That was all them."

"Good, because we probably really have enough-" he started with a smirk. She hit him. "Ow!" 

"It just means I'm going to get all those questions, plus many more, at 1 pm. Donna's got the 4 pm."

"Good luck. See you in the thing?"

"Yeah. Do you know how he's doing?"

"The President, or the Vice President?" Josh asked.

"Both," she shrugged. "Either."

"I expect they both have a very large headache."

"At least the Majority Leader is getting slammed by his own party for this," Sam groused on his way past.

"There is that," Josh agreed.

* * *

"So," Carol noted tiredly weeks later, "I think we're done with the news cycle."

"Yeah?" Leo inquired from where he was slouching in his chair.

"Yeah, it looks pretty well done," Josh sighed. "Both parties are weak and the press is ready to move on to something more juicy." 

"Since they've sucked everything juicy out of us, like a berserk horde of mosquitos, that only makes sense," Sam said. 

They all looked at him.

"I'm trying to remember why I hired you," Toby noted.

"Josh brought me in and said I was good."

"I'm rethinking that," Josh smirked affectionately. "Please tell me your imagery and metaphors did not make it into any White House press releases, Sam." 

"I don't think so."

"Okay, what's next?" Leo asked the room at large.

"Wedding." 

"Charlie and Zoey?"

"Yeah." 

"Has that been on the schedule?"

"For a while. You forgot because of the thing."

"And how many of you are in the wedding party?" Leo sighed.

"I'm the best man," Josh volunteered.

"There are people who would contest that, Josh," Toby glowered at him.

"I think it's most of us," Carol offered.

"How's security?" Sam asked casually.

"For the wedding?" Sam nodded, and Leo continued. "There's a reason it's being held here."

"Leo..."

"They're being careful. Fortunately, there's as many people who think this is a great step for interracial relations as people who think this world should consist only of white people, so they're doing fine." 

"Okay."

"Do you need help writing the toast?" Sam asked Josh.

"I've got it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Any predictions about the midterms?" Donna wanted to know.

"It's hard to tell. Both parties took a beating, so it's really a toss-up as to whether supporting an adulterer or engaging in blackmail is considered the greater of two evils by the voters."

* * *

"They went on a honeymoon," the President complained. "My little girl's on a honeymoon."

Leo just smirked, as he had years before when his friend told him about Charlie going out with Zoey. "That's rough, sir."

"You're mocking me, my friend?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're mocking my pain, Leo."

"I am, Mr. President." 

"Will you at least stop smirking?"

"I'm enjoying myself, sir."

"So when is Sam going to propose to Mallory?"

"Now you're mocking me." 

"Fair play, my friend!"

"Yes, sir." Leo's smirk had dissolved upon the reference to Sam and Mallory, but his eyes still danced a little. It was good to see the President in a good mood, and even better to see him moving about with such energy. He'd seemed... a little tired this spring and summer, a little worn. 

"So I hear some of the kids are getting together this weekend?"

"Yeah. Samantha and Abigail, it turns out, like Huck and Claudia. And it takes all of them to keep those four under control, since once Toby's kids found out what walking was all about, they've been doing it an awful lot."

"So this weekend it'll be just us old men in the building, eh, Leo?" 

"Us and the interns, yes, sir."

"Margaret's going?" he asked in surprise.

"She's their travel agent."

"And organizer extraordinaire." 

"That too."

"Does Toby actually call her Claudia?" the President inquired suddenly.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Toby and Andi's little girl. Do they actually call her Claudia?"

Leo sighed and nodded a little as he looked at his friend. "Sometimes they call her little CJ."

Jed sighed and sat down in his chair. "Is she cute?"

"A little bit, yeah."

He looked up at his friend with a slight smile. "A little bit?" 

"Well, they've got Toby for a father, you know." 

"Yeah." He picked up one of the frames on the desk and cradled it. "I've had dignitaries in here who don't know how many daughters I have, Leo. You know what I say when they ask me if this is a picture of one of my daughters?" Leo didn't have to answer, and the President continued anyway. "I say it is, and I haven't ever felt that I'm lying."

"I don't think you are, sir," Leo said softly. The President's hands were shaking a little as he held the frame. "Bless the photographer who took that."

"Yeah." He sighed. It was from the New Year's midnight dance, in profile, perfectly caught as the President had straightened from his bow and smiled at CJ, and she had just started to smile back. "He was pretty startled to get a call from the President's office."

"I can imagine." Leo just watched him for a long minute, waiting as he put the frame back in its place on the desk. "Are you feeling all right?" 

"I'm a little tired," the President admitted, looking up with a bit of a glower.

"Get some rest this weekend."

"My little girl's on her honeymoon." 

"It happens, sir."

"Should have built a dungeon."

"Since Charlie works here, sir, I can't imagine that would have helped much."

"You're spoiling my fun, Leo."

"More than the knowledge your little girl's on her honeymoon?"

"No, not quite as much."

"Get some rest this weekend, sir," Leo advised, stepping back.

"I'll see you in half an hour."

* * *

"Who's leaving their pager on?" Josh called in frustration.

"I have my cell phone on," Margaret volunteered, looking at him skeptically.

"So if the world ends, you'll tell us?" Donna asked.

"You bet."

"Please, no world ending," Carol fussed. 

"Don't tempt the wrath of the whatever," Sam smirked.

"Shut up," Carol and Mallory said in unison.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Andi said as she came up to them, children in tow.

Donna turned and embraced her. "Me either."

"We're doing the collective parenting thing for a day. This is nice," Josh declared. Donna smacked his arm lightly.

"You're an idiot. Help Toby and Sam get the food out."

"Why me?"

"Because then if Leo sees Mallory in the next few days, she won't have to explain a hicky," Carol said, voice rising in a desperate giggle. They all turned, and Sam pulled away from Mal, turning a fascinating shade of scarlet.

"Hi," Mallory said casually.

"How you doing over there?" Andi returned, just as casually.

"Fine, thank you," she managed before breaking into hysterical giggles. "Go help with the food, Sam." She waited until Sam had kissed her again and walked away with the guys before standing and coming over to the other women.

"Having fun?" Donna asked with a slight smirk, tugging Samantha back onto her lap.

"A little bit, yeah." Mallory smiled and glanced away. "He's much more respectful than the first time we tried to date. You think he's scared of my dad?"

"Nah, he's just being Sam," Carol waved off.

"Should we be having this conversation with four children under the age of three present?" Donna inquired, clapping her hands over Sam's ears. "Because, really, I think they've all got enough issues-" she stopped and started blushing, but the others laughed a little.

"Are they bossing the boys around yet?" Andi asked curiously.

"Not quite, but that doesn't stop them from complaining that they got lessons in being members of the Sisterhood in utero," Carol told her. "One time, Abigail told Josh he had a bad watch."

"I thought you got him a new one, Donna?"

"Yeah, but he keeps finding the old one and putting it on, like the stupid man he is."

"They both get along really well with Toby, actually."

"That's surprising," Andrea smirked.

"Did you know that when Samantha said 'you're wrong, Daddy Toby' and tossed a ball at him, he told her she was right?"

"No!"

"He also never accuses them of having had lessons in utero," Donna added. 

"That doesn't surprise me," Andi said, stretching out a little as Huck clambered over her legs.

"Sam and Abigail are so quiet," Mallory marveled suddenly, as they were watching the guys come back with the food.

"Ohh, you should live with them," Donna moaned. "But when they're not at home, they can sit down and be quiet for a while. I think it's because we took them to all those meetings."

"Please tell me they don't already know the launch codes," Andi teased. 

"Only because they're so young, because they've both been with the President when he's gotten security briefings," Donna chuckled.

"One time," Carol said, putting her hand over her mouth for a moment to conquer the laughter bubbling up, "Josh took both of them to a meeting on the Hill--I think Donna was mired in some weird research thing out of town, or something--and one of the senators in the meeting started swearing at him. It was about some bill that was really partisan... but they were both there, and Josh just... Donna, did he tell you about this?" Donna nodded, silently laughing too hard to speak. "Josh picked them both up and put one on each knee, and said, 'Senator, tell me again what you think of my reasons you should vote for this bill, and while you're at it, please tell me your position on family values.' And this guy was a major family values advocate, and Josh said he just turned absolutely purple, while the other senators stared at him." 

"I think Josh credited that with the bill passing," Donna mused after she recovered. "Oh, man, that guy was so mad." 

"But he couldn't really do anything," Carol said gleefully, "because Josh was right."

"Yes, that one time," Donna added, as Josh came up.

"Toby hates the outdoors," he proclaimed.

"I guessed that," Andi tossed back at him.

"Let's eat," Sam suggested, "before we all go crazy. I'm not even sure it's legal for this many of us to be out of the building at one time, let alone together."

"Well, Sam," Toby noted, "I can certainly think of someone who would like very much for it to be illegal for you and Mallory to be within two states of each other." 

"That doesn't count," Mallory laughed.

"Sit down and start eating," Donna sighed. "I'm hungry. Girls, what would you like?"

* * *

"Hogan couldn't make it?"

"Hmm?" Donna looked up from her attempts to get jelly off Samantha's cheeks. 

"Hogan couldn't make it?" Andrea repeated.

"No," she sighed, finally managing to get Sam sitting still and using a clean enough side of the washcloth to coincide. "You know her dad's Jeff, right?"

"Is that the jerk?" Donna nodded. "What on earth is his problem?"

"Even Albert's never been able to really describe it. It's partly that she's busy moving back into the dorm and stuff for the year, but it's partly that he's never wanted to be around."

"I can't see how that gives him the right to keep Hogan from visiting her cousins," Andi snarked.

Donna set Samantha down and nudged her in the direction of the other children before replying. "Well..." she paused, watching as Sam started navigating across some exposed tree roots. Sam himself turned and looked that way as well, brow furrowing in anxiety.

"You don't like to see them cry," Andi guessed after Samantha was kneeling over one of Huck's toy trucks.

"We can't stand it," Donna admitted. "None of us can." She turned back and smiled a little. "Anyway... he didn't even come to the funeral, or let Hogan come either. She's met them because Al sneaked her over two times, once when they were about a month old and again earlier this summer."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." 

"Can I ask you something?" they both said after a minute.

"Go ahead," Donna got in first, still laughing.

"No, it's okay."

"How'd Toby take it when he found out you were pregnant?"

"He completely freaked out."

"Did he ever stop?" 

"When the twins were born, I think."

"How'd you get him to-" Donna paused and waved her arms around "-freak out a little less?"

"Donna, is this a hypothetical conversation?" Andi laughed.

"So far." Donna ducked her head a little bit.

"Well, I told him he was being an idiot. I think it also had to do with the fact that I was carrying twins, and it was so soon after..."

"Yeah." Donna sighed restlessly. "I think he's scared. I mean, I know he's scared, I just..." she stopped in frustration. "Why are we talking like this?"

"You want to start a family one day," the congresswoman noted. "And here comes the man himself. Did they wear you out already, Josh?"

"Very funny."

"Just be straightforward," Andi whispered to Donna before standing and winking.

"What was that about?" Josh asked as he sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her.

"Fighting inflation," she returned without blinking.

"Traitor! My wife's a traitor, I say!" Donna laughed and put one arm around him too. 

"How they doing over there?"

"Toby's demonstrating an amazing talent for patience, and I'm pretty sure Huck has a crush on Abigail. Also, I like Mallory a lot better when she's like this instead of yelling at Sam."

"You like Mal just fine when she's yelling at Sam," Donna chided gently.

"Look at the way he's watching her." 

"Who?"

"Sam, watching Mallory." 

"That, Josh, is the face of a man who wants to watch the woman he loves cradling their firstborn."

"He's gotta be petrified," Josh said.

"Of what? Or who?" 

"Well, I'm sure he's scared of Leo, but I mean, he's got to be scared of parenthood."

"I think he's planning on having the wedding first, there, mister."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. "But, I mean... Sam knew about all of it. He went to some of the ultrasounds and the lamaze sessions, at least the ones that didn't get interrupted by a national emergency, and he helped her make sure they'd be okay." Josh's voice had grown softer as he spoke, until by the last few words it was only a whisper.

Donna just turned and put a finger across his lips, then leaned on his shoulder. "It's okay, Josh."

They just sat there, until a small voice interrupted them.

"Mommy kiss Daddy?" Samantha looked up at them with a smile.

"I didn't hear her come up," Donna whispered in embarrassment. 

"Kiss?" she repeated.

"I think there's only one response to that," Josh mused, reaching for her.

"She didn't say please," Donna pointed out.

"Neither do we," Josh murmured, averting the possibility of a retort by meeting her lips.

"Daddy loves Mommy," Samantha informed them at large as they broke apart.

"Nice," Sam drawled. "I'm not sure we were all old enough to see that, though."

"Hey!" they objected in unison. 

"Next time we'll make sure you're out of the room, Sam," Toby cut with a small smirk. Andi smacked him lightly on the head. 

"We've got an hour left, everyone," Margaret reminded.

"Okay. Wait, what?" Carol exclaimed. The redhead just rolled her eyes and lifted up her cell phone.

"That's actually okay, because these guys are going to need a nap by then." 

"I'm not tired," Abigail objected.

"Okay," Mallory smirked at her.

"Race with you?" Samantha offered. "Daddy Sam?"

"Sure."

"He's going to do the turtle thing, isn't he?" Josh asked.

"Yep." 

"What turtle thing?" Mal asked of Josh and Carol, who were both standing there with funny smirks.

"You've been dating him how long and haven't seen him do the turtle thing?" Josh wanted to know.

"Is this going to be a turnoff?" 

"Well," Carol giggled, "it depends on where you're standing."

"I want a picture of this," Andi noted. "Pie, Toby?"

* * *

Donna almost, almost slipped out of the White House without anyone noticing. But Carol had to ask her a question about one of yesterday's press briefings, so she turned in the lobby with a frustrated expression, wondering if they could move back to Carol's office for a moment.

"What's wrong?"

"I was on my way out."

"I could see that." Carol lifted an eyebrow at her.

"I have an appointment." Donna let that sit there for a minute.

"Oh," the other woman comprehended with a raised eyebrow. "Josh isn't going?"

"No. I'm doing this alone." 

"Okay..."

"I just need to leave so I can get there on time so I can be back here in time for lunch and that thing..."

"Yeah, sure." Carol hesitated. "You think-?"

"Yeah. And I want Josh to think, well, this is something besides what it is."

"Are you sure you don't want him with you?"

"Are you kidding?" Donna snorted quietly. "He'd probably pass out. No, I'm not taking anyone with me."

"I'm here if you need anything," Carol said seriously. Then she looked at the other door.

Donna followed her gaze. "I know. Thanks." 

"See you later."

"Yeah," Donna smiled and opened the door.

* * *

"Hey," Josh said that night as Donna rolled over to face him. He trailed a finger gently along her face, then down her neck, and she smiled in the dark, reaching out to brush two of her fingers across his lips.

"Hi," she returned. 

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" she repeated.

"You're tenser than usual," he noted, bringing a hand to her shoulder.

"Oh." She was silent for a long moment, eyes distant and thinking and not focused on the present.

"Donna?" Josh worried.

"I, uh, I'm sorry," she said awkwardly. "I went to the doctor this morning."

Josh froze. Soundless words whispered their way between them.

_'I'm pregnant; due the first week in February.'_

'Oh, CJ... oh, oh, God.'

'It's nothing that horrible, guys. It's girls.'

'I'm a big girl, Donna. I can take care of myself.'

'The two of you should date before everyone goes insane. Just be cute, all right?'

'Donnatella, I promise to revere and honor you...'

'Joshua, I take you to love and cherish...'

'We can have the President's thing or we can have my thing, but we can't have both. He won't be taken down by this.'

'All of you have to let me protect you and you have to let me protect the President.'

"Donna?" he said at last. He sounded like he was crying. She stretched her long fingers out to him and let them brush across his cheek.

"Yeah," she admitted. "It's, um, I don't know whether it's a boy or a girl yet..."

Josh stared at her in the dark, counting backwards. "From July?" he said.

"Yeah." 

There was another long, long silence, while Josh continued to stare.

"Joshua?" Donna asked finally, unable to stand the piercing stillness.

That seemed to trigger something in Josh. He moved forward, wrapping his arms firmly around her and burying his face in her hair. "I love you so much," he murmured, voice muffled by hair and his own tears. "I love you, Donna."

"I love you too," she murmured back, feeling her own tears start to trickle.

* * *

Right before he left for his date with Mallory, Sam took a small box out of his pocket and surveyed it for a long while before opening it and reverently caressing the object within. He'd hesitated, backstepped, waffled... but at last he'd bought a ring, graceful pure diamond set on glowing gold.

He pocketed it again and made sure he hadn't managed to get paint on his pants or something similar, and headed down the hallway.

"Josh." He tapped on the door, and waited a moment before opening it. Unsurprisingly, Donna was sitting on Josh's lap, their arms wrapped around each other. Donna looked up with glowing eyes and poked her husband.

"Sam's here."

"Oh." Josh looked up. "Hey, Sam."

"How you doing?" Sam asked with a wry smile. He was the only other one that knew so far.

"Pretty good, thanks," Josh answered, trying to bury his face in Donna's hair. She shoved him gently and stood up. 

"Have a good evening, Sam," she smiled on her way out.

"Thanks."

"You asking her?" Josh said, sitting back in his chair.

"Yeah. Listen, if you could try and keep Leo from shipping me off..."

"I'll do my best," his friend answered with a wry smirk. "Is it a nice ring?"

"Yeah," Sam answered thoughtfully. 

"Can I see it?"

"When it's on her hand."

"Good luck," Josh called after him. 

"Thank you!" Sam shouted as he strode down the hallway, man on a mission.

* * *

"This is nice," Mallory noted some time later, as they were finishing dinner.

"Thanks."

"I mean, it's nice because you haven't been paged back for the end of the world," she clarified, lifting one eyebrow and giving him a small smile.

"Yeah, that's nice for me too," he responded, a shy smile crossing his features.

"Are you waiting until we're done to start talking?" she asked.

"No, I, uh... I didn't have anything to talk about tonight," he confessed, blushing.

"You do too," she objected. 

"I really don't," Sam insisted earnestly.

"Sam, you always have something to talk about."

Sam slipped one hand into his pocket as he replied. "Well, I could revive our greatest hits, like the school vouchers."

"I thought you were in favor of them!"

"Then that's a testament to my ability to take a position I hate. Thank you." 

"Sam, seriously... it's not a date unless we argue about something, even if it's about whether the restaurant's good," Mallory told him, leaning forward, hands in front of her.

"We just had an argument about whether we were going to argue," he returned calmly.

Then he drew his hand out and set something on the table between them.

"That's a meta-argu-" she began. Then she stopped and stared. "Sam?" Mallory's voice was very soft.

"Hmmm?" he inquired, lifting his eyebrows at her.

"Sam, that's kind of a ring." 

"Fancy that," Sam answered, eyes focused perfectly on her face.

Slowly Mallory reached out and picked it up, turning over the gold band in her fingers and feeling the warmth left by Sam's hands, then placing a thumb and forefinger on either side of the jewel. "Are you proposing?"

"I had this whole speech worked out," Sam confessed. "And then I wrote another one, and then another one in my head..."

Mallory started to smile in appreciation.

"And, um, I finally realized I was going to forget it and sound like an idiot. So, Mallory, as corny as this sounds, I'd very much like the chance to wake up and argue with you for the rest of our lives."

"You're right, it is corny," she told him, chuckling softly. Her eyes glowed and locked on his. "And I accept," she continued, slipping it on.

Sam smiled in relief and joy. "Thank you."

"Thank you."

He took her left hand and caressed it gently before lifting it into a kiss.

"I hope I get more kiss than that tonight," Mal said, lifting her eyebrows sardonically.

"I was waiting for a less public venue to make out."

"Then what are we waiting for?" she demanded, smiling.

* * *

"I should go in there with you," Mallory objected the next day.

"I'm not taking anyone with me," Sam argued back. "This is a man's thing, and I should do it." He straighted and made sure his suit jacket was buttoned, looking as though he'd rather be in front of a firing squad.

"Yeah, whatever," she rolled her eyes.

"Hey!"

"Sam, get in there before someone calls security."

"I'm the one that's supposed to be here."

"Sam!" 

"Okay, okay." Sam stepped forward. "Margaret, is he available?"

"Hi, Sam," Leo's assistant greeted. "Yeah, go on in. You look very nice," she continued, standing up to open the door for him.

"Thanks," he said, swallowing.

"Actually, you look like death on a triscuit."

"You really know how to cheer a guy up, Margaret," he told her as she opened the door. She just gave him a funny smile and backed away.

"Good morning, Leo." Sam came in and stood in front of Leo's desk. Real men did not sit down for this.

"Good morning, Sam," Leo returned absently, still reading. He turned a page and looked up. "Sit down."

"Leo, I've come in this morning, as men do, to ask you something."

"Sam, what the hell is your problem?" came the baffled response.

Sam waffled for a minute. "I just need to know if you mind that Mallory and I are getting married," he finally got out.

If Toby had been there, he would have gone after Sam with a very large and blunt object. Instead, Leo just sat there and stared at him.

"Why would I mind?"

"I proposed to your only daughter." 

"And you're asking after the fact?"

"Sometimes I find it easier when I'm presenting an established fact." 

"She said yes?"

"Yeah." 

"Margaret! Get my daughter on the phone and tell her to get over here!"

"Leo, you don't think this is maybe my fault and I need to be taken out to the woodshed or something?" 

"That too."

"Leo," Margaret said, "here's Mallory."

"Which line?"

Then she walked in.

"Hi, Dad."

"You said yes?"

"Dad!"

"I think I should be getting yelled at a lot more than this."

"I'm getting to you, Sam."

"Da-ad!"

Leo rolled his eyes. "Yes, you may marry a fascist. Now go away before I change my mind."

Mallory came forward and gave him a brief hug, then left after giving Sam a quick kiss.

Leo and Sam stood opposite each other, staring, and finally Leo relaxed. "It's okay, Sam. But take care of her," he directed, aiming a finger at the younger man, "or I'll ask the President to loan out the 82nd Airborne."

"Yes, sir."

"Now get out." But Leo had a funny little smile on his face when he sat back down.

* * *

"There's been some recent interest in negotiations between Israel and the Palestinian Authority regarding the parceling of land," Sam noted.

"Is this real, or are they just making noises?" Leo wanted to know.

"It may be real," Toby answered. Eyebrows were raised in his direction. "Congresswoman Wyatt has shown some interest in the region," he elaborated, coming close to rolling his eyes. It was the classic Toby Ziegler expression saying he wanted to protect someone, but didn't want to admit it.

"We'll keep an eye out for actual noise," the President informed them. "Until then..." 

"Anything else?" Leo asked the staff at large, restraining a smirk.

"I have a thing," Sam and Josh answered in unison. Carol put one hand over her mouth, trying not to giggle.

"Well, this should be interesting," the President noted, leaning back in his chair and smiling a little. "Is it the same thing?"

They exchanged glances. "Um, no," Sam finally filled in.

"You go first," Josh suggested.

"No, it's okay, you can go first," Sam responded.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Toby contributed. "You're adults. One of you speak."

"Okay." Sam turned a little and saw that Leo was now distinctly smirking. _This is going to be painful._ "Um... the other night I was out on a date with Mallory," and Josh started to grin, "and proposed to her, and she said yes. I'm not quite clear why, but apparently we're going to be married sometime." 

"Congratulations," came the response from Carol, Josh, and Donna. Leo just smirked more broadly and looked over at the President.

"Shut up," his friend said. "You're letting Sam Seaborn marry your only daughter?"

"He waited longer than Charlie," Leo retorted.

"Yeah, but Charlie asked my blessing before he considered proposing to Zoey, although she got there first, and I believe Sam didn't."

"No, sir."

"Well, Sam," the President said, turning back to the younger man, "congratulations on being engaged and surviving the wrath of your future father-in-law. When's the wedding?"

"We haven't decided yet, sir, but it's probably going to be sometime in the spring."

"Excellent. Just let me know. You and Mallory..." he said, shaking his head. "Aren't they young?" he asked Leo.

"That's what I think too, sir."

"Josh had a thing too," Sam interjected, trying to divert their attention.

"Ah, yes, Josh," Bartlet said, "I know it's not the same as Sam's news."

"No, sir," Josh admitted, putting an arm around Donna and rubbing one hand up and down her arm. "It's good news, but yeah, totally different."

"If you could get to the point, Josh?" Leo chastised after a long moment of silence.

"Yeah. Sorry. We're pregnant." Josh dimpled hugely and hugged his wife more tightly.

"Boy or girl?" the President questioned immediately.

"We don't know yet, Mr. President," Donna admitted with a little laugh.

"Congratulations, you two. That's fantastic." 

Josh took a quick look at Toby and found him smiling a little under his beard. Sam was grinning like a complete dork, even though he already knew.

"Can I announce this at the next press briefing?" Carol asked, grinning broadly. Husband and wife exchanged a joyful look, and Josh gave a little nod at Donna, who turned to Carol and nodded.

"Anything else?" the President asked after a minute.

"Thank you, Mr. President," they chorused, folding their notebooks.

"All right. See everyone later." He stood stiffly, grimacing and holding on to the arm of the chair.

"Are you all right, sir?" Sam asked, as they all stood.

"I'm fine. Just a little back pain." Most of the staff looked at him with some skepticism. "I'm fine, people."

"Thank you, sir," Leo cut in before anyone could ask again.

* * *

In early December, Sam folded his arms and stood at Toby's office door.

Ever so slowly, Toby lifted his eyes from his writing. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm writing a section of the State of the Union, so if you could either get to the point or come back later, that'd be nice."

"Oh. Sorry." Sam stepped in awkwardly.

"Yes?" 

"I've been contacted by the D-Triple-C," the younger man noted.

Toby slowly lifted his head again, and pointedly speared his deputy with his eyes. "Yes?" he prodded again.

"They'd like me to run."

"That's usually why they contact people, Sam."

"Oh. Yeah." 

"Did they have something in mind?"

"Orange County."

"You're the only Democrat they could find?"

"The only one with visibility and ties to the President, yes."

"Sam, the next race is during a general election year. I think the President will be busy, and why are they contacting you almost two years in advance?"

"So I can start fundraising so I have enough money to beat Chuck Webb." 

"That's a worthy reason, Sam, except that you would not be able to work at the White House during that time."

"I thought about that."

"And?"

"Will's been here long enough. We're not running for anything, so..." 

"We still need to avoid pissing off the base so we can win back the House or the Senate or both in two years, since we can't possibly keep the White House," Toby told him.

"Okay, but..."

"Go talk to Josh." Toby bent back to his writing.

"I'll just... go talk to Josh," Sam agreed, stepping backward and gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "I'll be talking to Josh."

"You go do that." Toby gave him a little wave, then sat back up a little after he left with a thoughtful look on his face.

* * *

"Josh?" Sam swung around the door and knocked at the same time.

"Come on in, Sam," Josh greeted absently, reading.

"Are you turning into Leo?" Sam asked as Josh continued to read.

"What?"

"Never mind. Can I close the door?"

"Sure." Josh shoved his reading away and sat back.

"So it's like this," Sam started. "I've been asked to consider running in Orange County in two years."

"The dead guy's district?" When Sam nodded, Josh continued. "Well, you have a better chance than Wilde did, but still, Sam... you'd have to start fundraising about a year ago, and you'd have to be out there... and... wait, Sam, you sure it was the D-Triple-C and not Leo?" 

"I'm sure. Wait, you think Leo put them up to this?" 

Josh thought for a minute. "Okay, maybe that's a little farfetched."

"Yeah."

"You asked Mallory yet?"

"No."

"Sam, I think you'd be a great candidate, but you asked Mallory to marry you. I think she deserves a little input."

"Yeah." 

"Sam?" When Sam turned back and let go of the door handle, Josh continued. "I've known you since college, Sam. There is no one more intelligent or fair or with a better handle on what could make this country better, and I am proud to work with you and call you my friend. And there are few better to be trusted with the future of this party."

"Thank you," Sam said softly.

"But," Josh continued, "I also know what CJ told you."

His best friend met his gaze, blue eyes startled.

"I just don't want you to feel the need to win this at the cost of everything else. If it isn't working out, you'll try again in two years. Don't run yourself into the ground, Sam. Everything you do, every day, says you are her friend and you are protecting what she left this administration. There is nothing you can do that won't make me proud."

Sam just smiled and said, "I'm talking to Mallory," before he slipped out the door, but he looked calm.

* * *

"Sam," Mallory sighed, rolling her eyes in frustration.

"I'm just saying, I'm gong to be on the other side of the country a lot, and I don't want you to feel that you have to-"

"Sam!"

He stopped. "Yes?" he asked cautiously.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"I agree my chances are slim, but..." 

"Sam, you're an idiot."

"Is that worse than moron?"

"Sam!"

"What'd I do?"

"Sam, you're not going to be on the opposite side of the country from me. If you're going to make an idiot out of yourself, and I agree that could happen, then I'll be right there with you. Don't you ever dare to suggest you could go try this alone."

He took a step back and stared at her for a minute. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I mean... oh, hell with it." Sam stepped forward and hugged her. "Thank you. Just... keep reminding me, all right? I... I don't always want to take someone with me, because I'm scared."

"I understand," she told him, pulling back to look up and meet his eyes. "And don't worry, I'm fully versed in the tactics of the Sisterhood. You're not doing anything without me, mister." 

"Anything?" he asked, smiling.

"The only way you're doing any of this alone is if you leave me behind, and then I have the assistants lined up to beat you up."

"I'm not sure that's entirely legal, Mallory."

"Who cares, Sam?"

"Well... Okay, maybe no one." 

"There you go."

They smiled again, and Sam felt another tightly wound part of himself relax.


	27. You Did It Again, Part I

_You Did It Again, Part I_

"You know," Josh noted a couple of weeks after the State of the Union, "it's just occurred to me that we have less than two years left in this place."

Toby raised his eyebrows a little and met Josh's gaze directly. "Yeah," he replied calmly, and went into his office.

"We have less than two years?" Carol asked as she walked by.

"Yeah. Just now registered. He's got one more State of the Union, and that's it. We're out of here in 23 months and, I don't know, 4 days or whatever." Josh rubbed the side of his face absentmindedly. 

"Better start checking the want ads," she suggested, continuing.

And with that realization, they stumbled, and the bright determination of the last three years, and the three years before that when they were determined for other reasons, started to fade, and they were just another administration again.

It started with a truly perilous distraction; more than a distraction, it had the potential for tragedy, in an administration that had already passed through tragedies complete.

* * *

It was, Margaret noted later, after she could consider it calmly, almost unbelievably fortunate that Sam and Abigail had been there, quietly and solemnly flipping through the pages of reports after the fashion of their Grandpa Leo. The twins seemed to have absorbed the insane hours of the staff, napping when they could and capable of staying up unnaturally late for three-year-olds.

Their skills of observation certainly were above average.

"This is too long," Abigail declared, setting one file down next to her with an expression of disgust.

"This has pretty pictures," her sister replied, offering her own report. 

"Samantha," Leo interjected severely from his desk. "What color is the front of the report?"

She reluctantly closed it and then looked over at him with a guilty pout. "It has red," she replied in a small voice.

"And?" 

"Red stays with you."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Sorry, Grandpa," Sam murmured as he stood and came over to take it. He patted her shoulder briefly, then gave her a small kiss.

"Thank you, Samantha."

As he went back, she outlined the letters on the front of another file with her little fingers, then frowned, lips forming a pout again, while her eyes darted back and forth. Had anyone been looking, they would have noted then that even at three, baby fat still abundant, the resemblance to CJ was unmistakable.

Abigail looked at her, and then looked at their grandfather, then back down at what she was flipping through. "Almost done."

Samantha poked her.

Abigail looked up, her blue eyes puzzled and wide.

Her twin frowned a little, and looked at Grandpa.

Abigail looked over that way too.

"There's a thing," Sam whispered.

"Grandpa looks sick," Abigail whispered back.

"It's like he ran," came the reply. One hand patted at the cheek that had been kissed.

They frowned in unison, pouts identical, then Abigail started wiggling off the couch, until her toes finally touched the floor. "I'm getting Aunt Margaret." Sam immediately grabbed her hand and scrambled off too, and they headed for the door, waiting to be asked where they were going.

"Aunt Margaret," Sam said tentatively after they'd opened the door. She turned around and pointed to the receiver she had tucked between ear and shoulder. Abigail waited a little, then stomped her foot.

Just because they were smart and very loved didn't mean they weren't likely to stomp their feet, after all.

"What is it? You're supposed to stay with your Grandpa Leo," Margaret told them as she hung up the phone. 

The two looked at each other and swallowed a little. "Grandpa Leo looks sick," Abigail told her.

Margaret scrambled up as they scooted out of her way. Charging in, she called Leo's name, bending over a little to grab his wrist. Sam and Abigail stepped back in, eyes wide.

"I'm fine," Leo murmured.

"You're not fine," Margaret replied sharply. "You're pale and your eyes are unfocused. And you're sweating."

"I'll be okay," he protested. Margaret just reached across for his phone, fingers tapping before she picked up the receiver and tapped again. 

"I need Josh. Leo's sick. Yes, the girls are still here. And... okay. Right. Yes."

Within a minute, the office was flooded with their parents. Josh and Donna charged in together, her left hand cupping where their child rested. Josh himself took one look and nudged Donna in the direction of the twins, standing there with wide eyes.

"Mommy Donna," Samantha whispered, reaching up for a hug.

"It's going to be okay," she said softly, giving them a hug. "Josh?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Sam dashed in just before Toby and took one look at the scene, swallowing.

"Does Mallory know?"

"Not yet," Margaret said. "I was waiting for the paramedics..." she trailed off and swallowed hard.

"Daddy Toby," Abigail said, eyes huge and worried. He came over and crouched down, hugging her gently.

"The President?" Josh asked, eyes still focused on Leo, still completely zoned out.

"No." 

"Okay." Josh made an about-face and exited, calling over his shoulder, "I've got it."

"Toby, can you...?" Donna waved at the girls. He nodded and took their hands.

"You're going to stay with me for a little while, okay?" They followed him out, glancing over their shoulders.

* * *

Hours later, well into the night, the staff found themselves waiting silently with the President, who had insisted, patience worn and tried to a brittle edge, on being present personally. The girls were still up too, waiting with anxious eyes, looking nervously back and forth between their assembled parents. 

After a while, a doctor came in and explained some things, and then went away. Some looked relieved and others upset, and after a few minutes, the President turned to Margaret and gravely thanked her.

"It wasn't me," she denied. Everyone's eyes focused on her. "It was the girls." And all eyes turned to Samantha and Abigail, who tried to wiggle backward on Uncle Toby's lap a little, faces scrunched in anxiety. "The girls told me," Margaret clarified.

"Are we in trouble?" Samantha wanted to know, one thumb hovering nervously at her mouth, where her lips trembled.

"Oh, no," Josh hastened. "No, you're not in trouble."

"You did a very good thing today," their grandfather told them. "Thank you." 

"What did we do?" Abigail asked, eyes darting nervously between Josh and the President.

"You kept Grandpa Leo from getting more sick," Josh told them. "If you had not told Aunt Margaret, he could be very sick right now." 

"He's not very sick?" Samantha asked softly. 

"He's medium sick," Uncle Toby clarified from just above their heads.

"Yeah. What you did was a very, very good thing," Josh emphasized.

Mallory, who had been tucked in Sam's arms looking exhausted, now sat up and came over to the twins. "Thank you for helping my dad," she told them solemnly before taking each of them into a hug. Her words were simple, but the feelings driving them were not, as she wiped away a tear during the embrace.

"I'm not in trouble?" Samantha asked again.

"Honey," Donna said gently. "Why would you be in trouble?"

"I had a report with red and Grandpa got up to get it."

"Oh, no, Sam, sweetie... no. You're not in trouble."

"Okay." She settled back and nestled against Toby, who patted her hair absentmindedly.

"Sir," Charlie said softly, stepping into the conversation in that quiet, invisible way he had perfected, even though gold twinkled on his left hand. "We should go back to the White House, sir. You have to be up in five hours."

"Yeah," the President agreed, standing painfully.

"We'll stay," Sam suggested from where he sat with an arm around Mallory. Josh hesitated visibly, then nodded and came over to where the twins were finally starting to nap, still sitting on Toby.

"You two ready to go home?" he offered. They opened their eyes sleepily and slipped down, instantly grabbing his hands as though afraid he might suddenly disappear. Donna, back to all grace at seven months pregnant, came to Josh's side and ushered them out, murmuring softly.

Toby stayed where he was, until only he, Sam, and Mallory were left in the room. Then he slowly leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.

"I've been thinking," he said calmly. 

"Yeah?" Sam responded.

"About Samantha and Abigail."

"They saved us today."

"Yeah." 

"Are we all still looking at them sadly?" the younger man offered.

"That's what I was going to say." 

"Is that all?"

Toby stood. "We can't protect them from politics, Sam. The headlines are going to be 'White House Saved By Toddlers', and if we're lucky, they won't talk about how they're pretending to read classified reports."

Sam seemed to twitch a little as he considered this. "If anyone comes after them, I'm gonna-"

"Yeah, me too, Sam!" 

"You guys?" Mallory grumbled. "Could you save this for later?"

"Sorry," Sam said instantly. 

"Yeah. I'll see you later," Toby replied.

"He's right," Mal murmured after the door closed.

"I just wish there was someone in my life not mired in politics, that's all," Sam said, hugging her a little tighter.

"I'm not mired in it," she objected.

"Did I do it again?" 

"Yes, Sam, you did it again."

* * *

"Actually, Ralph," Donna noted, "we've always been for the adjustments to HMOs put forth in this bill. We're just not for the riders attached to it."

"Donna?" Steve asked. "Are you trying to say the bill is toothless as it stands now?"

"There's a few concerns in that area, yes," she responded dryly. "Katie?"

"Is it true that Sam Seaborn is going to run for Congress next year?" 

Donna paused and took hold of the podium, raising a skeptical eyebrow down at the press corps. "He's been approached, which is understandable given his visibility. I don't have anything on whether he's going to run or not."

"Does Sam know?" 

Donna smiled a little bit, the slightly sweet one that had kept her afloat during rougher briefings than this one. "I expect he'll know when he's ready to decide. It's a year and a half until the election."

There was a quick pause as notes were jotted down, then more hands went up. Donna shifted her feet a little bit. "Danny?"

"I'm sorry to ask another question relating to the 2006 elections, but as you pointed out, we have about 18 months. Is the Vice President going to run?" 

"You'd have to ask his press office that, Danny." 

"I did, but I want to hear what you think." 

"Isn't that the opinion column?" Donna replied with a skeptical smile.

"Fair point. Let me ask this: are you aware of any other Democratic candidates for 2006?"

"I'm aware of the ones who have declared."

"That's it?" 

"Afraid so."

Danny smiled a little and continued scribbling in his notebook.

Donna adjusted position at the podium again and then her expression changed, to one of odd wonder and confusion. She placed a hand over her stomach and took a few deep breaths.

"Donna?" Danny asked, half-rising. She started to shake her head, then stopped, swallowed, and backed away from the podium a little bit.

"Carol should be back some time after dinner. Thank you."

Danny was next to her before she could move two steps. "Are you all right?"

"My water broke," she hissed, still moving toward the door.

"Oh." He placed a hand on her back and they moved into the hallway, hearing some footsteps running down the hall. Josh and Sam skidded up to them, Josh staring at his wife with wide eyes.

"Is she-?" Sam started when it became apparent Josh was incapable of speaking.

"Her water broke toward the end of the briefing," Danny replied. 

"Thanks."

"No problem." Danny turned away as Josh and Sam each took gentle hold of Donna's arms. 

"Danny," Josh called softly. The reporter turned back. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

"I'm fine," Donna grumbled as they moved down the hallway.

"Yeah, which is why you ended the briefing, right?" Josh retorted.

"It was time to end it. They'd asked all the good questions."

"Okay, I'm not leaving the two of you alone," Sam decided, still steering them toward an exit. Bonnie came up with their coats and Josh's backpack and one or two other things.

"Toby would appreciate it if you came back later," she told Sam.

"I'll do my best."

"Leo know?" Josh got out.

"I'll make sure," Bonnie offered, heading back through the doors. 

"Josh," Donna directed sharply. "You need to calm down."

"I, uh," he stared at her in panic. "I'll try."

"You're all going?" Leo asked, coming through another set of doors.

"I'm moral support," Sam offered.

"So's Josh," Donna said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah."

"Leo, are you gonna be okay if we-?" Josh requested, gesturing toward the nearest exit with his thumb.

"Yeah, I've still got Toby, Carol, and that other guy."

"I'm going to make sure Josh doesn't faint," Sam announced.

"I guessed," Leo said dryly. "Keep in touch; call me!" 

"We will," Sam assured him. "Let's go."

* * *

"Uhhh!"

"Donna?"

"Shut up!"

"You okay?"

"Shut up!" Sweat gleamed and glimmered on her face and neck.

"Donna?" Josh could feel the sweat against his hands, as Donna gripped them fiercely.

"I'm busy here!" she retorted, all fire. 

"I can see that!" Josh winced as she squeezed his hands even harder, his eyes widening anxiously. "In fact, you've been doing it for seven hours, so-"

"Owwwww!" 

Josh felt himself lose the willpower to say anything, and just remained still, letting his wife bruise his hands, and in the silence following Donna's last cry, hearing his ragged breathing. He stared down anxiously, looking at the picture of perfect concentration that was Donna and had filled his whole world for hours.

"Josh?" she asked suddenly. He felt his gaze snap into focus, and he met her eyes.

"I-" he started, but was cut off as the next contraction came. Donna's cry seemed to echo through him, and his perceptions wavered, cement all under him with no Donna in sight. Toby's face was pale and his hands weren't, and CJ gripped one of his hands in hers and twined the other with Toby's, while Sam called to him through the shrill whooping... 

"Josh! Josh!" Sam gripped his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He swallowed and looked at his friend with wide eyes, then glanced down at Donna, who was staring up at both of them with anxiety. "How long--"

"Not long. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He closed his eyes and rubbed his pained fingers along Donna's hand, feeling a little tension drain out of her.

"Mr. Lyman, perhaps you should leave," the attending doctor suggested mildly.

Josh's eyes snapped open, and Donna shifted her gaze from her husband to where the doctor stood.

Before either of them could speak, Sam found words. "He needs to stay, Doctor. I'll take care of him."

"Are you sure?"

"He has to stay." Sam rubbed Josh's shoulders a little. "Sit down, Josh." He pulled a chair over and tugged firmly on his best friend's arm. "Sit down."

Josh collapsed into the chair. "Donna..."

"I'm still here," she assured him softly.

He just leaned forward and kissed the backs of her hands. "Yeah."

"This feels different," Donna managed an hour later, gasping roughly. 

"You're bearing down," Sam supplied as the doctor straightened. The other shot him an annoyed look, but Sam just laid a hand on Josh's shoulder again. "I'm here, Josh."

Somehow, that gave Josh the few seconds of sanity and time away from the fear to turn to Donna. "I'm here, Donna."

"I know," she whispered. Memory fought against hope and joy, and some part in her knew that some part of Josh would always be shuddering and broken, folded against CJ's office door and protected only by her saddened touch and the President's solemn and communicative gaze. 

But then, that was true of them all; as true as it had been three years before, and as true as it would be three years hence or three decades hence. The difference was simply when they realized that, and Josh and Donna's time was now.

Donna took a deep breath. Strength for her and for Josh; and the acceptance that the whole of Josh's being was now bound in these two moments; for this time, he was here or there. His hands still returned her grip, his face pale and terribly nervous, filled with a need to get it right that rivaled all other needs. Past him, Sam kept shifting nervously, his eyes moving between the two of them as he folded his hands up under his chin, lips moving soundlessly.

"Josh..." she said softly. His chocolate eyes turned immediately to her and focused clearly before he moved forward to kiss her damp forehead, lips brushing down to the point of her nose. Donna smiled just a little bit. "You going to be okay?"

"I think so," he returned. "Don't go anywhere."

"I won't," she promised, just as labor swallowed her, and she saw Josh's eyes widen. Desperately, her eyes flickered to Sam in a single, soundless command, and he stepped forward again.

Josh felt Sam's hands against him, silently lending support, as he watched Donna cry out, hands still unconsciously tightening their grip. At least Donna was lending voice to her pain; as Sam's face appeared next to him, hovering anxiously, he wondered if Sam was thinking and asking again what he was; why CJ had borne her girls into the world in such brave and utter silence.

He thought he knew, but he couldn't think. His world closed down to what was before him. His breath came rough and even and forceful, trying to breathe for someone besides himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Josh caught the sight of a small glint of blood, and he didn't know what it was from, and he didn't want to know... he would know sometime, but he didn't want to know now, when CJ lay still and soundless and pale and brave before him, and he fought to call back another sister, another loved one, lest he lose everyone... CJ and Leo and the President and Sam and Donna and Toby all grouped in with Joanie and Dad, Josh's love all turning to grief because he was never there...

Donna, all slender fragility, shook her head at him, one hand coming over his as it had when they sat in his office, speaking quietly of what could never come to be... what had eventually, or what was he doing here? He could see the horrified countenance of his best friend, and his surrogate fathers came in, staring and rooted to the spot after the first horrible realization dawned; the two fathers he stood up for, and Josh wanted to stand but he couldn't. He could feel Sam bracing him, keeping him grounded to the spot, as he watched Donna struggle to bring their life into the bright world full of loss, and then he wondered if it was Donna or CJ and if his eyes were open or closed. His hands were wet with blood... no, wait, was it sweat or blood... and he stood before an aging father not his own and swore to protect CJ, this new sister, and he met the gaze of another father as he vowed to protect Donna.

"You did it," Sam whispered in his ear, so far away, and Josh flicked his eyes open to see Donna, ragged and weary and pale and joyous, and oh, so very alive, watching him.

"It's a boy," she said softly, and even though they had known for months, Josh smiled, feeling his face go alight with the dimples Donna so loved.

"Congratulations," Sam contributed, as a nurse laid the newborn into Donna's arms, waiting while she apologetically untangled their bruised fingers from each other.

"Josh?" she murmured softly, fingertip running lightly along the baby's forehead.

"Noah Thomas," he said, still smiling, reaching one hand forward, seeing the present fully again. Sam nudged him in the direction of Donna's arms, and he laid his hands across hers, face alight with wonder and relief.

Then something within Josh broke and changed and was formed, and he began weeping. "You did it again," he gasped out, and Donna smiled up at him in understanding.

_We get better._


	28. You Did It Again, Part II

_You Did It Again, Part II_

"I, Samuel, take you, Mallory, to have and to hold; to love and to cherish; to honor and protect; to revere and adore, through sickness or health, poor or rich, fair or ill, though death, temptation, or silence work to part us."

"I, Mallory, take you, Samuel, to have and to hold; to love and to cherish; to honor and protect; to revere and adore, through sickness or health, poor or rich, fair or ill, though death, temptation, or silence work to part us."

There was a long moment of silence, marked by the glinting of silvered tears across Sam and Mallory's faces and the glitter of gold bands, slipped reverently onto waiting fingers.

"You are now husband and wife," came the proclamation, and their lips met gently as Leo smiled broadly and nodded to himself.

"You're doing it again," his best friend murmured from his side, poking him in a fashion most un-Presidential.

"Yes, sir," Leo returned. "It's my compensation for a lunch full of vegetables."

"I feel your pain."

"Boys," Abbey Bartlet admonished. They grinned again, and watched Josh bounce in place in front of the newlyweds.

"You did it!" Josh and Sam exclaimed softly in unison, trying to contain themselves. Mallory and Donna dissolved into laughter, letting the gorgeous May moment stretch on, as ringed hand met ringed hand, and the daughters of groom and best man, of bride and matron, of groomsmen and maids of honor, scattered petals again.

* * *

"Is this it?" Jed Bartlet asked the question and then closed his eyes against the answer.

Abbey's eyes refused to waver, even as they spilled over with the same fear with which she had gone to Leo's office over five years before.

Charlie, there as son rather than body man, stood still, trying to blend into the room but desperate for the answer.

"I don't know." 

The President's eyes snapped open. "I can't feel what right now, and you're not sure?"

"Jed..." Abbey sighed and reached forward, brushing his hair back a little. "It can be mistaken for other things. You don't have the other indicators. This isn't your pattern, Jed."

"I have a pattern now?"

"We may never know for sure, especially if this goes away in short order."

"Okay. Charlie?"

"Mr. President?"

"What did Leo need to see me about?"

"The end of the world, sir, I think."

"Okay. I'm getting up," he directed at his wife, then continued, "You ever going to stop calling me 'sir' and 'Mr. President'?"

"No, sir," Charlie replied, with just a hint of a soft smirk.

"You ever going to get another job?"

"After you're out of office, sir." Charlie shifted his stance, just a little bit, implying that anyone wanting to separate him from his boss would have to meet a stubbornness equal to a Bartlet's.

He'd learned from the best source: Zoey and her father.

"All right," Jed conceded, with the hint of a smile.

"You shouldn't be getting up."

"It's the end of the world, Abbey; I don't think it can wait," came the retort, face and eyebrows all raised in teasing skepticism.

"Be careful," she finally said, stepping back and allowing Charlie to help.

"You're doing it again."

"What?" she asked innocently. 

"That thing that makes me want to jump you where you tell me to go back to work when I can do nothing of the sort."

* * *

"He's fine."

"Leo-"

"He's fine."

"He's shuffling around-"

"He's fine, Toby! He's fine, Josh! He's fine!"

"Leo, we're not the opposition," Sam tried gently. The older man's face seemed to fold, and he sat down.

"We've lost so much," he murmured. "I don't want to lose Jed Bartlet. I'm not worried about losing the President, but about the man. We have 18 months left in office, and I don't want to lose him."

There was silence.

Josh had a peculiar look on his face, mouth just slightly open.

Will, still trying to catch up after more than two years, could only step back and stare, his perspective on what kept the country going disturbed once again.

Carol asked the question, one that, like others through the years, only CJ would have dared or desired or been driven to speak. "Leo, are you feeling all right?"

"I feel fine, thank you."

They all seemed to take an analytical step back, even Will, and looked steadily at their boss before nodding.

"Do you need me to stay?" Sam offered. He was due to resign the following week, after showing Will the way things worked, and head out to get his campaign officially started.

"Nah, we'll be okay," Leo declined.

"Do you want me to stay?" Sam persisted gently. Josh shot him a grateful look.

Leo met his gaze with one of his trademark intimidating expressions, then broke into a smile. "Go put a Democrat in the 47th," he directed. 

"Carol's going to get the question," Toby put in after a minute.

"Yeah," Leo agreed.

"And?" 

"He's fine. Say he pulled a muscle or something." 

"Leo," Donna started. He threw his hands up in the air.

"He's fine!"

* * *

A week later, Sam paused in the doorway of his old office and looked solemnly at the man sitting behind the desk.

"Yeah?" Will queried, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"You can still call me," he prompted.

"Sam."

"Will, there's going to be a million things you don't understand, and that's without the added dynamic of this particular group of senior staffers."

"And that's been the case for over two years."

"But you weren't the Deputy Communications Director for that time, Will. You're going to be working directly under Toby, which is a whole different ball game."

"What do I need to know, Sam?"

Sam paused and thought. "I can't think of anything," he admitted at last. "There's too much."

"That was helpful," came the dry response.

"No kidding. Listen, most of us like you, and we like your writing, and we like what you believe in." 

"That's why you hired me, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But in all seriousness, Will... you're going to tread on things you don't understand because you weren't there, and I just want you to be prepared for when they blow up in your face."

"Why would they blow up in my face?"

"What happened the first time you said Carol Fitzpatrick was the Press Secretary?" Sam inquired.

"Josh Lyman told me to never, ever... well, to never say anything like it again, especially in front of the President."

"Exactly."

"Sam, that was when I first came here!"

"It doesn't matter." 

"I'm becoming Deputy Communications Director and you want me to not concern myself with the fact that we don't have a Press Secretary and haven't had one for three and a half years?" 

"We do have one. Actually, we have more than one. We just don't call anyone the Press Secretary. Carol's office and Donna handle all of it under normal circumstances; when they can't they yell for help from you. The President isn't going to name a Press Secretary, Will."

"That's the kind of thing I should be asking about as part of my job, though," he protested. 

"That's the kind of thing that will blow up in your face," Sam warned.

"It's been three years, Sam!" 

"Have you gone into the office?"

"Huh?" 

"The office. Have you gone into the office?"

"The Press Secretary's office?" Will asked, frowning as he comprehended.

"Don't call it that. And yes."

"No, I haven't."

"Have you tried?"

"No." 

"Come here." Sam dropped his briefcase in a chair. "Come here," he repeated, beckoning. Will got up with a puzzled expression and followed him down the hallway. Carol was away from her office, so Sam stepped out, moved several paces down the hall, and gestured for Will to come forward.

"Is this a trap?"

"Go ahead."

"Hazing?" 

Sam folded his arms. "Go in, Will."

"Okay." Will took a deep, reluctant breath and reached for the doorknob casually. He turned it a fraction.

And stopped.

Very slowly, he took his hand off it, then turned around to meet Sam's eyes. Sam just stared back, blue eyes firm. "Go in." 

"Uh..." Will took another look at the door. "I don't know if I should."

"Try it," Sam directed softly.

He stepped forward again as Sam retreated around the corner, and touched the doorknob again. It seemed to loom, filling up his whole world, as he took firm hold and started to turn it.

"You can't go in there."

He whirled. Josh stood in the doorway, his arms folded. Sam popped around the corner and shared a look with his friend.

"Um, Sam told me to-"

"Yeah, I know."

"Does that always...?" Will started, trailing off in confusion. 

"It's weird, isn't it? The staff has been growing for decades, and yet we've left this substantial office go unoccupied for over half the administration. But it's out of respect, Will. It doesn't matter how long ago it was."

Will took a large, uncertain breath and looked back at the door yet again. "Whoa." 

"That's a start," Josh remarked.

"Josh!" Donna sped up to them suddenly. "You're supposed to be in that meeting?"

"I'm going back!" he defended, turning and giving her a quick kiss.

"You were about to go in?" she asked Will, eyes suddenly accusing.

"Uh... no?"

"Good answer. Come on, Josh."

Sam waited until the pair had gone back down the hall. "Anything else?"

"I, um, no, I don't think so." Will glanced uneasily behind him as he came out into the hallway. "What's the minimum speed in the hallways again?"

"About a million miles an hour."

"Okay." They were silent until Sam had picked up his briefcase again and Will stood uncertainly in the door of his new office.

"One more thing," Sam said finally. "I don't think you'll get asked, but from time to time, we take care of the kids here at work. Huck and Claudia are Toby's; Noah is Josh and Donna's; Sam and Abigail are CJ's. If you're ever asked to watch those two, do it right, or you'll be lucky if the President only sends you to Siberia."

"I understand."

"Good luck," Sam tossed off as he exited the bullpen.

* * *

Before Sam stooped to place the arrangement, he looked at the stone on stone, and wondered if it was Toby or Josh who had been here recently. It could be an older one, but usually they were knocked off in relatively short order, by wind or rain or whatever else.

He tucked the flowers against the granite, started to straighten, then changed his mind and crouched down, one knee brushing against the grass. Frowning a little, he stayed there for a while.

"I'm supposed to be the one with all the words," he finally said. "Sam Seaborn, man of many words, able to work with Toby Ziegler. But I've never had words for this. I know you told me many times not to blame myself; it was your responsibility. But the way it's made all of us afraid of impending fatherhood... I don't know. We're all still blaming ourselves. I don't know how Donna and Andi handled it; I don't know how Mallory can be so very unafraid. How the First Lady can accept all of this with such poise when she has three daughters."

He laughed shortly, then rubbed his nose. "Why do we keep coming out here? It could be the end of the world and still not a week goes by when one of us doesn't slip out of the building for a few hours... what am I going to do, so far away? This is where we've all come, so very many times, when we needed a reminder of whatever it was that time... And so many times, we've come out here to ask how Donna and Mallory and Andi and Zoey can possibly trust us. It's that appreciation you gave us, isn't it? It's that you made us so much more aware of the trust a woman places in a man, and vice versa; Josh has spoken a million times of how he's regarded Donna with appreciation and awe that approaches reverence. 

"I don't know what I came out here to say, except that I hope I'll be back in a little over a year, in another branch of government, delivering speeches instead of writing them, trying to create legislation that will make this country better. To..." he paused and considered. "I've been told I'm one of the great minds of my generation; I've been told I could be a great President, that I'm the real thing. I don't know if that's true or not. I just know that I'm going to be good to Mallory, and raise the issues, and raise all of our children to be as, as good as they possibly can be in every way, and protect Samantha and Abigail, those two parts of you. And someday, maybe I'll be back in the White House. I don't know. Maybe I'll turn into someone I don't like on the way, or maybe I'll be defeated and fade into obscurity. But there's a legacy here to do the best thing for this country, and like reaching for the stars, it's hard, and it requires all our strength and capability, all of us together."

He stepped back. "Anyway... I'm gonna do this, and then I'm going to do it again. Because if I don't try, then I've lost something."

The grass whispered as he finished, and he turned. Mallory, all sweet fire, whose gifts in speaking to people he had only suspected two years ago, came up and slipped her hand in his.

"Nice speech," she complimented with a kiss.

"Mmm."

"Sam?" She tugged gently. "You ready?"

He turned suddenly bright eyes to her; twinkling and determined, they met hers and smiled. "Yeah. I'm ready." She smiled back, acknowledging his decision, and they walked away, murmuring to each other about what would become important.

* * *

Charlie shifted a little, holding Zoey, who was curled up against him. She opened her eyes and blinked at him sleepily, stretching one hand across his chest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't."

"I did."

"Charlie..." she sighed.

"Okay." He stared calmly at the ceiling and waited.

"You didn't," she said at last when it appeared he wasn't going to try to say anything else.

"I'm glad," he confessed with a little smile.

"Yeah." She moved closer, using his shoulder as a pillow.

"Why were you awake?" he queried.

"I wasn't."

"Now hold on," he said in mock indignation. "You said I didn't wake you up." 

"You didn't. I was thinking," she returned pertly. 

"A Bartlet thinking?" he asked skeptically. She poked him. "Hey, ow!"

"You rolled your eyes. I could hear it in your voice," she accused.

"I was not rolling my eyes with my voice," he denied.

"I have a finely honed sense about these things, Charlie." 

"That's what your dad's been saying for the last six years, Zoey."

"Well, mine's better," she shrugged.

"Why?"

"I'm a woman." 

"Yeah, about that... I think he's still a little upset about not having built a dungeon for you."

"I would have broken out of it."

"I don't know..." 

"Come on, Charlie. You have to be at work in, like, four hours."

"You scared?" he asked after a long pause.

"Of what?"

"I don't know." 

"You do."

"Becoming a parent. I don't know, Zoey," he said, sighing.

"Mmmm... not really, no," she decided after a minute.

"No?" he repeated in surprise.

"Charlie... you trust me." 

"Yeah."

"And I trust you." 

"Yeah," with a smile.

"And we love each other."

"Yeah," he repeated, bringing up his left hand to study the gleaming band.

"And while he frequently threatens to rescind it, we have the blessing of my father, who is also your boss and the President of the United States."

"This is true," he agreed, laying one hand lightly on her face.

"So we're covered," she finished.

"You're not scared of having kids?" he tried to clarify, rolling onto one side and studying Zoey's eyes. 

"No. Oh. This is about CJ."

"Yeah." 

"Charlie... I'm gonna be fine. I'm not scared." 

"Will you tell me if you are?"

"If I'm scared?"

"Yeah."

"Will it make you feel better?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." She leaned in closer and kissed him.

"Your dad's going to have some things to say," he reminded.

"Yeah, he'll yell at us that we did it again," she giggled. "But he'll be happy to have another grandkid, Charlie."

"Okay." He sighed and closed his eyes.


	29. I Believe We Can Find The Door

_I Believe We Can Find the Door_

"Is there anything else?" Ginger asked Toby. 

"No."

"Are you sure?" Bonnie insisted.

Toby lifted dangerous eyebrows at his assistants of the past eight years. "I'm sure," he replied softly.

"You have stuff on your desk," Ginger observed boldly, even as she was backing out the door with a box in her hands.

Toby swung to regard it, then back again. "Yeah. Go help Will."

"He finished packing yesterday," Bonnie informed him.

"Go away."

"Okay." They moved into the bullpen. 

Toby waited a few minutes, then eyed his almost empty desk and pulled out three small boxes. He sat down at his desk and placed them in front of him, then gazed at each photo in turn. For over four years, they had been in the exact same spot. Now, he was moving them... clearing off his desk completely at last, in an office that this time tomorrow would be occupied by someone else.

By a Republican.

They'd all seen it coming, but that didn't make the last eighteen months any less painful.

* * *

John Hoynes hadn't even tried to run. The resulting vacuum left nearly half the Democrats in the Senate, and no small few in the House, feeling they had a shot at the Democratic nomination. Not even the persuasion of various operatives from the White House, the DNC, or independent agencies had convinced more than a very few they needed to ally behind a candidate, and of course those few weren't really the ones that needed convincing; they knew it already and were running in the hopes that the issues they raised and the wide field would cause just that.

It never happened. Triplehorn, Rafferty, Baker, Mueller and all the rest spent the primaries distancing themselves from the White House, railing against each other, mudslinging, and bringing up the occasional issue, when issues even got the time of day.

The Republicans stepped into that ensuing vacuum, and brought forth a candidate people were willing to vote for. That was all they were looking for this particular year, and the DNC chairman mourned the fact that had his party been able to pull it together long enough, they could have kept the White House. The voters weren't looking for another Bartlet, they were just looking for another President... and with the Democrats unable to disentangle themselves long enough until four months remained to the election, the Republicans won the Presidency practically by default. 

Walken wasn't bad. Nor was he good. He was just there, and able to decide, and so the first Tuesday in November, 2006, saw a near reversal of four years before. He was a governor, and the voters liked that. He didn't have any strange diseases, and the voters liked that. He had the support of his party, and the voters liked that. He seemed to be willing to listen, and the voters liked that, too.

By the time enough Democrats realized the trouble they were in, they couldn't get out of it. The infighting as to which candidate was the best that preceded that realization was the worst thing the party had been through in over 30 years, and resulted in a move of some party heavies away from DC politics.

Some of them had been at the center of it all for the last eight years.

* * *

Josh massaged his forehead and leaned back despairingly on Leo's couch. Next to him, Donna slumped wearily, looking around with tired eyes. Leo was sitting behind his desk, elbows placed on a stack of memos. Toby had braced his chin in one hand and was writing with the other, in the sort of despairing attitude he had lately. Carol sat at the table, giving Leo a pleading look, as if to beg for some good news he had been hiding. Will, still the newcomer, had taken his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, with his briefing book across his lap.

With less than three months to go until the election, they were exhausted in the worst way.

"How's the President?" Will inquired, tired and bold.

Leo looked over at him. "Leave the President out of it."

"Leo..."

"Leave him alone, Will." Leo sighed loudly and looked over at Josh. 

"We're not going to get anything done in the next six months. I say we go to Hawai'i," his deputy replied promptly. Donna smiled fondly at the memory and patted his hand.

"Sounds good," Carol replied.

"You are all insane," Toby noted, still writing.

"What are you writing?" 

"The President's address."

"Which one?"

"For the thing." Toby didn't stop or look up.

"I'm glad we cleared that up," Will grumbled.

"Sam's polling well," Carol told them. 

"You already said that," Josh responded.

"Five or six times," Donna reminded.

Carol shrugged a little. "Oops."

"Leo, what are we doing here?" Josh asked after another few minutes of silence. Leo looked up from his work and stared at him. "I mean, half the people in the country can't even recognize the Democratic candidate for President, the President's been declining steadily for the last year, we're still working eighteen hour days, and our party's going to get massively beaten in the general elections. What are we doing here?" 

"We're doing well in Congressional races," Toby muttered from behind his hand.

"Toby's got a point," Leo conceded. "We've been here for almost eight years, Josh. I think we're supposed to feel this way."

"Not this way, we aren't," Donna objected.

"Like what we're doing doesn't matter," Carol added.

"The fight for the nomination took a lot out of us," Leo continued. "Give it a few weeks."

"Leo..." Josh sighed, then flopped his head onto the back of the couch again. "I have a strong urge to go manage a mayoral campaign in my home state." 

"I thought you were from Connecticut?" Will asked. 

"I am."

"There's more than one town there?"

"You were raised in Brussels, so be quiet," Josh retorted, with the faint hint of a smile.

"A mayoral campaign?" Leo repeated.

"Yeah. One of those towns that has a mayor because they think it's cool, not because they have a population big enough to need one."

"Are you kidding me?"

"He's not," Donna told Leo. 

"I'm not," Josh affirmed, still staring at the ceiling.

"You're taking a vacation in January, right?" Carol checked.

"We think so. There's just not many places..."

"Are we working?" Toby wanted to know.

"Yes!" Josh practically shouted back. "And we've been working for eight years! And we've gotten eight years older and it feels like twenty to me, and I'm sick of it! I'm already getting job offers and I don't want a single one of them, because they're all here in DC. I'm done. I'm sick of getting screwed." 

There was a long pause.

"This is why staffers aren't supposed to last eight years, isn't it?" Will finally asked.

"Some of us didn't," Toby contributed. 

"What are you going to do, Leo?" Donna asked in the ensuing dangerous silence.

"Go out to California and stalk my son-in-law, of course," came the reply. There were some snickers, and Toby actually looked up from underneath his eyebrows to smile. "Spend some time with Mallory, of course, assuming I can get her away from Sam for more than five seconds, and visit at the farm. I hadn't really thought about it."

"You're not getting job offers?"

"I am, but-" Leo paused and thought. "Huh."

"You don't want to take them either," Josh half-accused in muted triumph.

"I didn't say that."

"You almost did."

"Almost doesn't count."

"I'm going with Josh," Donna mentioned. "You know, wherever..."

"A house with an acre of white picket fence," he murmured into her hair. 

"Shut up," she said with a smile.

"The President understands, believe me," Leo sighed. "He's trying to get to January the same as the rest of us." He paused and stood, surveying them, and one by one, they all stood as well. "We're in the final six months, people. Get through this." 

He hadn't quite smiled, but they caught it in the words, and nodded. Surely they could come back from the nomination burnout for a short while.

* * *

"Sam wants to be an angel for Halloween." 

"What?" Josh asked blankly.

Donna stayed in the doorway. "They're four and a half years old, Josh. That's old enough to pick their costumes and Sam wants to be an angel." 

"An angel?"

"Yeah."

"You know, the first time you said that-"

"-you thought I was referring to Sam?"

"Yeah."

"We should come up with a system for that."

"No." 

"Why?"

"Because it can be cleared up by asking which state Sam's in."

"No, because we're in the District."

"Get away from me!"

"Too late," Donna smirked.

"Okay. What's Abigail?" 

"She hasn't decided yet. I think they're still working on it."

"Are you making this up?"

"A little."

"How much?"

"A little." Donna came into the office. "They want to know why we have to move out in a few months."

"We don't live in the White House," Josh said.

"Yeah, but they've spent a lot of time here, and while they may not be able to remember it, they did, in fact, live in the White House. So the question is understandable, and I think we should-"

"Donna." 

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"I've been offered a job in Wisconsin state government."

"Aren't they kind of Republican right now?"

"Yeah." 

"Then why are you even considering it?"

"I haven't seen my family in I don't know how long."

"I haven't seen my mom since year before last."

"Well, at least you can remember it."

"Donna, what is it?" Josh asked softly. She shut the door and sighed, then looked at him. 

"My parents would prefer I not be bearing your children."

His eyebrows went up. "I know each family goes through that stage, but really..."

"It's lasted a little long."

"I'll say."

"It's hard on them, with me being here and doing what I do, or at least that's what they say..."

"Yeah?"

"It's hard on me too, doing something my parents don't understand and don't want to understand, when I'm too far away to explain, and..." 

"Donna?"

"I'm sorry," she managed, coming to sit in his lap. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said softly, rubbing her back. "It's okay." 

"Thanks."

"Were the girls really asking about moving?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay. We can do this."

"Yeah," she agreed with a soft smile.

"We might take back the House," Josh observed.

"That's almost five minutes away from politics."

"You timed me?"

"Of course."

* * *

"That's it," Josh sighed, and ran his hands through his hair.

"We knew it was coming," Toby reminded him. "Come on."

"Walken," Will muttered in disbelief. Carol and Donna opened their eyes from where they lay sprawled across the chairs.

"Decided yet?" Carol muttered, yawning.

"Yeah."

"Did Sam win?" Donna inquired groggily.

"Oh, Sam! Shit! I forgot..." Josh clutched his head and spun in place.

"He probably-" Will began with a smile.

"Don't say it!" the older staffers shouted.

"Ahhh..." Josh exclaimed, still turning around.

"Josh, if you fall and hit your head because you've made yourself dizzy, your mom's going to be very upset with me," Donna advised him sharply.

"What? Huh? Oh." He stopped and sat down.

Will shook his head. 

Josh's cell phone rang.

"Josh Lyman." 

"How you doing?" Sam inquired cheerfully.

"I'm pretty freaked out."

"Yeah?"

"Well, my party lost the election and I forgot my best friend had something important tonight."

"Nah..." Sam dismissed. 

"So, Sam, how's Mallory?"

"That's 'Representative-elect', you disrespectful... disrespecting... Deputy Democrat," Sam corrected.

Josh whooped, remembering just in time to move the phone away from his mouth a little bit; be rude to deafen a Congressman-elect, after all.

"He got it?" Carol asked excitedly.

"Yeah!" Josh held the phone up again. "How much, Representative-elect Seaborn?" 

"Fifty-six percent," Sam told him smugly. 

"Fifty-six percent," Josh repeated to the room. "You guys got a party going?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam affirmed. "I've got to get back to it... give Will a message for me?"

"Anything."

"Tell him thanks for sending Elsie."

"Okay. How's Mallory?" 

"She's pretty happy," Sam replied. "She brought up a lot of issues... helped in ways I didn't think of until after she already had."

"I'll bet."

"I've got to get going."

"Congratulations. Everyone else says congratulations, too." Josh grinned.

"Thanks," Sam replied gleefully.

"See you," Josh said, and clicked the phone off.

"That's great," Donna grinned, coming to hug him.

"Yeah," he agreed, returning it. "Oh, Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Sam said thanks for sending Elsie."

"Oh." Will looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled. "Yeah."

"Does Leo know?" Toby inquired from where he sat.

"About Sam? I don't know..." and Josh bounced out of the room.

* * *

And so it had gone, Toby mused, gazing at his desk. Sam's win in California had given the party more leverage in the House, leverage that was canceled by losses in the Senate from Senators who had been tied up with trying to win the Democratic nomination.

In personal terms, the past few months had looked good. Mallory was pregnant and so was Zoey, and Josh and Will had been almost constantly amused by the grumblings about Sam and Charlie. Toby himself had been picking out a spot in New York, trying to decide whether to tell Andrea before or after he moved.

It could no longer be delayed, and so he reached forward. The folding frame snapped shut easily between his fingers, and slid easily into the box, protected by its own architecture. The Inaugural picture came with more reluctance, wrapped in tissue before being hidden from sight for the first time. Finally, he reached across to the other corner and laid his fingers on the final frame, thinking that this relayed an essence, a statement of CJ's being, this stilled moment of her doing her job.

He was aware that he was not the only one doing this right now; if not at this point in time, at this point in the return of an office to an impersonal state. The President slowly handed his photos to Charlie one by one, hesitating more and more until he reached his fourth daughter, then glancing up, all friendly frustration forgotten, as he met his son's eyes, full of patient understanding. Josh cupped a frame of the four of them sitting in CJ's office, talking and touching, as his eyes strayed down the hall. Donna packed her own pictures slowly, glancing at Josh's office door, and Leo stood at the corner of his, gazing into a bit of history and ignoring Margaret's insistence on finishing now.

Carol slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped toward the door, gazing at it solemnly. She reached forward, then back, realizing she didn't want to do it alone.

When she turned around, they were all standing there.

"Need some help?" Josh offered softly.

"Yeah."

Toby stepped in and brushed his fingers across the silent wood. Leo moved up silently and put a hand on Carol's elbow.

"I can't do it," she murmured finally.

"We've got it," Josh assured, taking a quick look at Toby, still silent. The older man nodded. 

Slowly, Toby turned the knob. They flinched at the click of the latch releasing. Josh and Leo pushed the door gently, and it swung open.

"We should leave," Donna prompted hesitantly after a while.

"Everyone ready?" the President asked out of nowhere. They turned and smiled a little. "Good. I don't have to remind you people of the way out, do I?" 

"No, sir," Toby affirmed with a small smile. 

"Good," Bartlet responded, stepping forward slowly to gaze into the office, then stepping back. No one failed to notice the package clutched in his hands.

"Yeah," Leo said after a minute.

"Go on," the President prompted. "Did you forget?"

"No, sir, I believe we can find the door," Toby answered solemnly.

"I'll see you later," the President reminded them.

"Thank you, Mr. President."

"We do remember how to leave the building, right?" Josh muttered once they were going down the hallway.

"There are doors right over there," Donna observed.

"I don't think I'm ready for this." 

"Neither am I," Carol responded, even as she continued walking.

"The door, the door, we've got to find the door..." Josh said under his breath.

"You're being a little freaky, Josh," Donna told him.

"Let's go," Toby said when they started slowing down.

"I'm going," Carol said, and stepped out. "The sun's still up." 

"It does that?" Josh wanted to know.

"See you guys later," Leo told them from where he stood in the doorway. "This is what it feels like after the White House." 

"Guys?" Josh said after a minute.

"Yes?" 

"Think we can find the door again?"

"Yes, Josh, I believe we can," Toby replied.


	30. I Want My Money Back

_I Want My Money Back_

"Congressman Seaborn, a word, please?"

Sam had no idea what made him rotate back around at that, but so he did. 

"Danny!"

"Hi, Sam." Danny smiled faintly.

Sam approached, observing the distinct lack of notebook and pencil. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, I've been hiding out," he confessed.

"You off the record?"

"Oh, yeah."

Something in Danny's tone made Sam's eyebrows go up. "Really?"

"I'm done."

"You're too good to-"

"Yeah, I know. But I'm done."

"We appreciated your help during the thing."

"I know," Danny returned, eyes twinkling just a little. "I told my editor as soon as I wrote my last piece on the Bartlet administration."

"Aw, Danny..." Sam started to object again. Danny shook his head. 

"I told Carol that spring I wanted to be a friend, a personal friend. She told me you'd all rather have me as a reporter friend, so I was. But I'm done."

There was a peculiar quietness in Danny's eyes that had never really gone away, and it was particularly evident now. Sam nodded in understanding.

"Then you probably understand why I'm the only member of that administration's senior staff in Washington right now." 

"Yeah."

"So what can I do for you?" 

"I don't know. I just want to be here."

"You want to give me lessons in avoiding bad press?" Sam inquired, mouth turning up in a smile.

"You're a freshman Congressman; no bad press for a while."

"Really?" 

"Sure. We give every freshman a six-month break." 

"Uh-uh."

"Damn. You saw through me." Danny grinned at the other man a little.

"A little bit, yeah." Sam hesitated, then gestured over one shoulder with his thumb. "I've got-uh, a thing..."

"Sure. I'll stay in touch."

"Yeah." Sam smiled, then walked away. Danny stayed where he was, hands stuck in his pockets.

* * *

Leo eyed the remains of his breakfast, then folded the newspaper over to the next page. Very occasionally, Abbey allowed him (or Jed) access to the more cholesterol-laden forms of breakfast, but this wasn't one of those mornings.

Besides, reading about how the Republican President was settling in, while much more interesting, didn't exactly increase his desire to finish off that grapefruit. There were limits to what a man could take.

"Harrumph," his companion declared.

Leo looked over the top of his newspaper. "Something wrong, sir?" he inquired.

"You calling me that," Jed grumbled in deflection.

"All right, all right," Leo conceded with mock exasperation. "Something wrong, Jed?"

"President Glenallen Walken," came the disgusted response. "'We must cut taxes to stimulate an economy coddled by eight years of a Democratic President.' Oh, really? He forgot to include the little fact that I was an economic President. I'm an economist. The economy sucks because Congress couldn't be bothered to pull their heads out of their--what are you laughing at?"

"You," Leo managed, still chuckling.

"What?"

"Need a microphone?"

"Yes. Charlie!"

"He's not around 24/7 anymore."

"Oh, that's right. He's an expectant father now. I shoulda built a dungeon."

"He would have just stolen the keys."

"I should have shipped his ass off to Siberia while I had a chance, then." 

"Still want that microphone?" Leo asked with a smirk.

"Nah." Bartlet folded his own paper over again, grumbling.

"What are you yelling about, Jed?" Abbey inquired, stepping in.

"Walken insulted the economy," Leo provided, looking up.

"Well, that would do it," she said, raising her eyebrows a little, with an even smaller smirk.

"Yeah."

"And how was Charlie supposed to help you with that, Jed?" she continued. 

"He was supposed to get me a microphone," came her husband's response.

"You ever going to get over that, pumpkin?"

"No." He peeked up over the edge of the newspaper with a glower before resuming his reading. Abbey sighed and rolled her eyes, turning to Leo.

"I ate a healthy breakfast; don't look at me like that," he objected.

"I didn't say anything," Abbey retorted.

"You were about to," Leo insisted, turning another page. The former First Lady folded her arms. Leo mentally ducked. "You want to go for a walk, sir?"

"Mmmm."

"Mr. President."

"Stop calling me that."

"Jed, a walk?" Leo pressed.

"Hmph."

"That process whereby we both avoid being punished by your wife, who, while not the First Lady any longer, still has considerable resources at her disposal, including control of our diets?"

Jed looked up. "Oh. Of course. I was about to suggest just the thing. A nice long walk around the farm."

"Yeah." 

"Out you go," Abbey shooed.

"I'm not done yet," her husband protested.

"You are now." The two men glanced up and hastily put their newspapers aside, standing.

"We're just two old men, Leo," Jed griped fifteen minutes later.

"Yep."

"It's not cold out," came the preemptive declaration.

"It's freezing," his friend declared. "Unnatural."

"Nah." 

"You're driving your wife insane, Jed."

"You're driving both of us insane, Leo. I can see you fidgeting to go do something from another floor, never mind when we're both in the same room."

"I'm just taking a little R & R, sir." 

"Will you stop that?"

"I could go visit Sam and Mallory, but..."

"Calling me 'sir' and 'Mr. President'. I'm just Jed, Leo. Just plain Jed, two-term President from New Hampshire."

"Okay."

"Stop smirking."

"I wasn't smirking!" Leo denied. 

"With your voice."

"You and your powers of reasoning..." Leo shook his head.

"Are not to be mocked," his friend advised. "Leo, we're just two old men being bossed around by my wife. What are we doing here?" 

"It's only April, and you're bored already?" 

"Aren't you?"

"Maybe a little. Not enough that I don't like it." Leo pulled his coat a little closer.

"I could be teaching."

"Yeah." 

"I don't want to teach, Leo. I want to do something." 

"Plant a garden."

"Hmph."

Leo hesitated. "You could do that other thing."

"So could you."

"It'll mean more if it's you. You're instantly recognizable. I'm not."

"True," Jed conceded, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I don't want to wait too long, or people will forget. I don't want to do it too soon, or people will think too much about the fact that I just left office."

"Mmm," Leo agreed.

"We never got to do what we wanted," Jed mourned.

"That's true of a lot of things."

"I really wanted to do this. The bill was a big step, but it was anti-crime at heart, not pro-education."

"As the authors intended, Jed. We're still far ahead of where we were when we went into office." 

"We didn't know then what we know now."

"Yeah." Leo paused, waiting. "Well?"

"You don't think the prestige will be diminished by the fact that I'm a former President now instead of a current one?"

"I think the intent and the potential are still the same," Leo said, turning to him. "No matter how many schools take advantage of it, this is still an extraordinary thing, a thing no one else has done. You're encouraging something that's too frequently suppressed, Jed."

"Yeah." Bartlet took a deep breath and let it out, gazing at the field. "Yeah."

Leo grinned.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Be an old man for a while."

"Leo..." Jed griped. 

He sighed. "I don't know. I may go back to the party. They could probably use the leadership..."

"Leo..." 

"I'm not going back to DC." That was delivered with definite finality.

"Not even to visit Mallory and Sam?" 

"That doesn't count."

"Okay." 

"You rolled your eyes."

"I did not," Jed objected, all innocence.

"Did too."

"Leo, you're bored."

"Yep," Leo confessed, looking around. "Yeah, I can't get used to this."

* * *

Donna opened the door and was almost immediately tackled by her son, a bundle of energetic toddler. Taking a step back, she picked him up, then looked further into the house and laughed.

Her husband lay sprawled on the floor, grinning like an idiot.

"Hi." 

"Hi," he returned. "How was work?" 

"Good."

"Details, Donnatella." 

"Later. What have you been doing?"

"Noah's been using me as a rocking horse."

"And the girls?" she prompted.

"I'm pretty sure they're looking at the Congressional facebook," Josh answered dryly.

Donna rolled her eyes in mock despair. "This is all your fault." 

"Whatever," he said, grinning. Donna finally came over and deposited Noah next to him. Their son immediately tugged on Josh's sleeve.

"Up daddy."

"Say please," they prompted in unison.

"Pease, up daddy."

"Sure thing," Josh agreed, sitting up and grabbing Noah affectionately.

Donna sighed, bending down to kiss him. "I'm going to go find the girls."

Josh looked past her. "No need," he said softly, affection and love mixing with sorrow just a little bit, quieted by time.

"Hi," she greeted, turning. "Did you have fun with Daddy Josh?" 

"We watched TV," Abigail told her, coming into the room. Donna immediately shot an accusing look at her husband. 

"C-SPAN," he responded. Donna rolled her eyes a little.

"How was work?" Sam asked. Both girls came up for a hug and Donna embraced them before responding.

"It went well. I like it a lot."

"Daddy Toby says you help people with Amy."

"That's right. We know Amy and I'm glad to work with her."

"Did you help lots of people today, Mommy?"

"I hope so," Donna admitted with a smile. Josh got up, brushing himself off, and shooed Noah toward the twins. They immediately grabbed him by the hands. 

"Come on, Noah," Sam directed. "Let's go set the table."

"You think he's actually helping?" Josh mused.

"Maybe. He can put the napkins on." Donna hugged him, leaning against his shoulder a little.

"How was it today, really?"

Donna sighed. "I'm not sure it was such a good idea to take the job right away. I'm so aware of how it'd be different with a Democratic President."

"You thinking of quitting?" Josh asked in surprise. Donna shook her head vigorously.

"It's good experience, and I enjoy working with Amy and I enjoy working for the WLC. But I did ask for a leave today so we could take a vacation. Since the girls aren't in school yet... and we can take it before Mallory's due date." 

"Yeah." Josh sighed, stretched, and kissed her. "I've been getting some pretty insistent job offers from the House and the Senate..."

"The DNC ask you to chair yet?" Donna inquired dryly.

"Not yet." He paused. "In a way, I'll be just as glad if we're not both involved in Washington when the girls start school, but I think I may have run away too fast."

"At least you didn't run a mayoral campaign."

"I thought about it." 

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Honey, you've got to get that sad look off your face when you see the twins."

Josh started guiltily, looking off to the side and then hesitantly meeting her eyes, tears brimming. "I see CJ when I look at them," he whispered. "I know how trite it is, I really do, but they look like her. They're already, what four feet tall, and they're so smart, and..."

"They are not four feet tall," Donna said, suppressing a chuckle.

"My other points stand."

"I know. My point is that you're never going to be past the last eight years until you can look at them and not see CJ's ghost."

Josh opened his mouth and closed it, looking slightly befuddled. At last, he nodded, for Donna was exactly right. Until he stopped seeing the ghost, he'd never be able to fully do anything for the girls or for anyone else living.

What Donna hadn't provided him with was a solution, and his mind turned over on it, knowing something was close, but unable to pinpoint it.

* * *

"Dad!" Zoey objected in May.

"I'm standing right here," Charlie noted calmly.

"I'm just saying, it's not too late for your husband to take a nice little two-year trip to Kamchatka."

"Where's Kamchatka?" Abbey inquired from her position in the doorway.

"Russia," Charlie said tiredly.

"We can both go," Zoey said with a grin.

"You couldn't get back before your due date," her father immediately objected.

"Well, then, that settles it," she answered, turning to take Charlie's hands in hers.

"Okay, okay," Jed conceded.

"You were just messing with us a little," Charlie sighed, with the trace of a smile.

"Yeah."

"Jed," Abbey said, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, so what are you doing after the baby's born?"

"Trying to find a normal job," Charlie answered for both of them. "Also possibly some more school."

"Well, you can let me know when you decide, all right?"

"Going to put in a good word for us with the dean, Dad?" Zoey challenged. 

"Well... no. Yes."

"We'll be fine," Zoey assured.

"What have you been doing, sir?" Charlie asked innocently. Jed glowered.

"What have I told you about calling me 'sir' and 'Mr. President'?"

"Not to do it. Yeah. I should work on that."

"The proper address is 'Dad'," Bartlet reminded.

"It's hard to decide what to do," Zoey admitted after a minute. "We were there a long time."

"I'm hoping to find a law firm I can actually respect," her husband admitted slowly.

His father-in-law snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Will Bailey's volunteered to help out with that."

"Was he the new guy?"

"Jed, he was there for almost half the time you were in office," his wife reminded, still standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, he was that guy. Anyway..." Charlie shrugged.

"I'm going to go talk to Ellie," Zoey said, carefully standing.

"You okay?"

"I'm, like, seven months pregnant, Charlie."

"Just checking."

After she left, Jed turned to his son-in-law, half-accusing, and said, "You're bored out of your mind too, aren't you?"

Charlie considered this, and slowly nodded. 

"I may have just the thing. We'll have to see," the former President promised.

* * *

"Hi."

"Hi." Sam smiled broadly at his wife and waited with an air of innocence.

Mallory returned his look with a reluctant, frustrated smile. "Hi." 

"Hello." Sam paused. "Can I get you anything?" 

"Shut up."

"Okay." He sat down, waiting again.

Finally, Mal wandered over to stand in front of him, placing his eyes on a level with her very rounded stomach, holding their firstborn, a daughter, due to pop out in... oh, about a week now.

He swallowed.

"I want my money back," she finally declared, sitting in his lap.

"Money?" he questioned.

"Yes, Congressman Seaborn, money. You know, that thing your government spends so flagrantly?"

"It's your government too," he pointed out.

"Shut up." 

"I'm interfering with one of your moods," he half-questioned.

"Oooh, a mood," she mocked lightly. "Yes. You are interfering with one of my moods." 

"Ouch," he responded.

"Don't make me punch you."

"Just not the face. I have a thing tomorrow on the floor."

"For a speechwriter, you really need to work on your sentence construction."

"I'm not a speechwriter anymore."

"I should be able to trust your dual capabilities, Sam," she returned lightly. 

"Mmmm." He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder ever so lightly.

"You're not allowed to have a thing when I'm in labor."

"I'll do my best."

"My dad'll come after you," she threatened with a smirk.

"More incentive. I shall do my best for you there, Mallory."

"I'll have to hope for the best, then, won't I?" she asked with a dramatic sigh. 

"And I'll do my best to stop my colleagues from randomly trying to filibuster in defiance of tradition and possibly, you know, everything decent."

Mallory finally cracked a smile. "Yeah," she said, rubbing her hands up and down his arms. "Yeah."

"Okay then," he replied, letting his hands rest lightly on her belly.

"Sam?" Mallory asked after a few minutes of peaceful stillness.

"Mmm?" 

"You okay?" She felt Sam jump a little beneath her as he looked up in startlement. Blue eyes locked painfully onto hers for a moment, and she wondered if she maybe shouldn't have asked this sooner... but it had been a campaign, busy and victorious and stressful, and Sam had never seemed to have quite the same issues with seeing a woman he cared about become pregnant that his colleagues did. Even her father, usually so sturdy, had trembled all over when she told him before finding himself able to congratulate her and Sam on the presence of his incipient grandchild.

Sam murmured something, eyes gazing off into the distance.

"Sam?" 

"I have the benefit of the longest gap," he said softly. "I have the benefit of having known what was going on, of being prepared. I have the benefit of having married someone who was a friend of CJ's, but wasn't seeing her all the time. I have every reason not to be scared."

"And?" she prompted after a minute.

"Your dad conveyed how I feel pretty well. When we told him... that's how I feel when I think about it too much, I think. This is a beautiful, beautiful thing, a beautiful life, we've made, and I want to love her. I do love her. But there's still just a little bit of CJ's ghost here, and I know she'd kick my butt for it, but it's true." He kissed each of her hands in turn, then touched her on the lips lightly. "But I'm okay, Mallory."

"You sure?" she asked, a smile teasing at her lips.

"Why wouldn't I be sure?" 

"Because if you're not okay, one of my moods is going to be nothing compared to my dad's mood."

"I am okay. I'm definitely okay. I'll sit here in my okayedness and be okay." 

"Shut up," Mallory repeated, laughing.

* * *

"Really?" Josh asked, grinning from ear to ear. "That's great. How'd it go?" He paused, then laughed at the other's response. "We'll be up in a few days. Congratulations, man. Tell Zoey."

As he hung up the phone, the other four people in the room stared at him expectantly.

"Is Aunt Zoey a mom?" Abigail finally asked, small arms folded.

Donna lifted her eyebrows dangerously, waiting.

"Yeah," Josh said, grinning. He was glad he'd had Charlie's phone call first, or the subsequent squealing would have been even more painful. 

"And?" Donna prompted.

"Isaiah Paul Bartlet, 7 pounds and 3 ounces."

"And Jocelyn Mirah Seaborn," Donna added, shaking her head a little bit. "They're going to be busy."

"Sam and Mallory and Charlie and Zoey, or Jed and Leo?" Josh inquired.

"Grandpa Jed 'n Grandpa Leo 'n Grandma Abbey?" Noah wanted to know.

"We're going to visit?" one of the twins asked.

"Yeah," Josh affirmed affectionately.

"When?" Samantha asked, grinning as only a five-year-old can.

"In a couple of days."

"Awww..."

And so it went, Josh thought, watching Donna tickle the children when they fussed about not being able to see the baby now. Jocelyn was a mid-June girl, coming in bright and sunny. Sam had stayed with Mallory the entire time, only emerging to give his friends a hug briefly a couple of hours in. Danny and Sam seemed to have formed a pact, and no one was surprised when Danny was asked in just after Josh himself, emerging with a foolish grin proclaiming his status as godfather.

Josh didn't mind. He knew why, and also knew that he was still precious to Sam, knew he would be known as Uncle Josh to little Jocelyn and any that might come after her. Charlie had made clear months before that Josh would always know his children, too... and so the links of family were forming, replacing the weary ones of eight years in the White House, the bonds of fire and dedication turning to love and time.

Now, in July, nearly six months after leaving that same White House, Josh was ready; ready to accept the ever insistent job offers and take a tentative step back into the world he had relished for so long.

There were just a few people who still needed persuasion, direct or indirect, to come back. 

Carol was unabashedly working up a storm in Sam's Congressional office. In fact, she often had to storm to get work. Even for a state as large as California, a Congressional office could be boring compared to the White House.

Margaret was happiest when she had too much to do. He was surprised he hadn't gotten a phone call about her going crazy from boredom yet.

Will, forever marked by his time with the Bartlet staff, was still looking for life after the White House.

Toby had to decide for himself.

* * *

Toby sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"You know," he said to the stone, "I tried. I did. I tried moving away. I thought that way I could start over, that I wouldn't always be bound to this city and these people." He paused and shifted back and forth. "It didn't. I should have known better, but it didn't. It didn't change a damned thing, except that I was further away from everything. And for a while that was fine, but now it's been eight months since we left and I'm feeling a little... a little bit like maybe I ran away too fast, that we all did. One by one, everyone's come back in one fashion or another, although I do need to question Josh hiring Margaret as his assistant. But everyone's come back except for me. I was in a little room in New York, just writing. I don't know whether I was writing my memoirs or yours, but it's the first time in I don't know how long that I've been able to just write.

"And then it hit me," he continued softly. "I got to late 2001, and I realized that I was doing the worst thing in the world, because I was forgetting everything you taught us. You should kick my ass, because it took me this long to remember you wanted something more for and from all of us. The President realized it months ago and now he's speaking to classrooms around the nation. Soon he may be speaking worldwide, and I'm just here, talking," he sighed. "And writing, and I don't know what to do, but I do know that continuing to just talk and just write would be a terrible crime, because everyone else is doing their share to fulfill the legacy you left us." Toby's voice had remained soft throughout, but now it had filled with more conviction, his face decisive and still thoughtful.

"I'm back here. And this may sound cheesy, but I'm in it for the long haul." Another steady pause. "I won't be beaten by this."

With that, Toby swiveled decisively away, smiling, and strode off to find his strength again.


	31. Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc

_Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc_

"Andrew Jackson, in the main foyer of his White House, had a big block of cheese. The block of cheese was huge, over two tons. And it was there for any and all who might be hungry. Jackson wanted the White House to belong to the people, so from time to time he opened his doors to those who wished an audience. It is in that spirit..."

Here Leo paused and looked around at the faces of those he had gathered here, those he had asked to come together again for this purpose.

Josh, steadily watching him, with a seriousness undreamed of on the first Cheese Day, so long ago. 

Toby, making direct eye contact with Leo, waiting to see what this new form of Cheese Day would be.

Sam, who, like Josh, had essentially snuck away from work today to listen to Leo; to listen to an idea intended to carry on a legacy of accessibility from an already unusual team.

Donna watched with a patient smile, eager to hear what else she could do even though she was already doing so much.

Margaret stood nearby, almost, but not quite, waiting for the comments which had quickly followed Leo's declaration for years... but now no longer did.

There was, after all, a broader theme. Asking the question... encouraging knowledge.

Will had been persuaded back here to listen, just to listen, for a few minutes, before he decided what to do.

Carol, too, stood waiting. Never before had Leo given the cheese speech with such strength, but never before had he delivered it outside of the White House, either.

Samantha and Abigail sat on either side of Josh, looking at their Grandpa Leo with wide, loving eyes full of concentration.

"It is in that spirit," Leo continued, "that we have gathered today, and will gather again from time to time, to listen. We have our example in Jed's classroom sessions. Now, we're going to expand on it. We may now be one of those groups that has trouble getting the White House's attention, but that's not going to stop our interest in the issues." 

"Leo?" Will asked first. "So what are we doing?"

Jed Bartlet stood. "We're going to take a look, people. No matter what it is, we're going to take a peek." 

Toby considered this, then seemed to stand, for all that he remained seated. "After this, therefore because of this." 

Leo and Jed made eye contact with each other and nodded in a fashion peculiar to them. "Yeah," Leo affirmed.

"What are we doing?" little Sam asked everyone. Josh grinned and wrapped an arm around her.

"I think... we're going to try to help."

"Where do we start?" Sam asked. 

"We need to be prepared to look like idiots," Margaret noted suddenly. At Leo's look, she added, "I'm just guessing."

"Yep," he agreed.

"So what didn't we do then that we wanted to do and can still do now?" Jed questioned.

"Classrooms," Toby said. "Schools..." He didn't finish. They all knew what he meant; the addition of technology and resources to even the poorest classrooms, and the narrowing of the gap between the rich schools and the poor ones, and those that attended them.

"What are we waiting for?" Carol asked.

"Girls?" Donna queried softly. They turned their eyes on her. "Do you understand?"

Abigail pursed her lips. "Volunteering," she said after some consideration.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do for this," Sam reminded the pair. "That's what volunteer means."

"We want to," Samantha said for the two of them after some consideration. "Can we help at school?"

"You're turning them into philanthropists," Toby lightly accused Josh and Donna.

"Well?" Leo prompted. "Let's go."

* * *

A year later, Josh stared at two girls who were as daughters in horror.

"The kids at school say you're not really our parents," Abigail declared with a soft, worried pout. Donna, just a few weeks from delivering a daughter, cupped one hand across her belly and the other over her chest in a gesture eerily reminiscent of CJ. Noah frowned in puzzlement, his earnest face framed by fine, slightly curly hair, with his tongue sticking out a little.

Josh himself swallowed and wondered if all the good they'd done the past year was about to be shattered against the rocks of history and reality.

As with so much the last six years, the deep core of their purpose came from memos and letters and papers that were now tattered and a little out of date. This wasn't partisan, but the essence of what CJ had written hadn't been partisan, either. _'Far too many children grow up unaware of the fact that it's better to ask the question, and even if nothing else is changed, that must. Anything else is a violation of the trust children place in adults. Curiosity is not to be mocked, but rather to be applauded.'_

And so they had... and so it was, as they jumped into what had never really been touched. Sam had said first that schools should be palaces, and they echoed that, facing the criticism of eight more years of good intent that hadn't really gone anywhere.

"Sometimes we don't always get to do what we want," had been endlessly repeated, from Maine to California and from the school that hadn't been state of the art since Lincoln was President to the school that would still be state of the art in five years' time. It was followed by, "But will you help?" 

"Will you help us bring this front and center?" 

"Will you make this a team effort?"

"Will you realize learning is sometimes hard?"

"Will you help?"

"Will you help?"

"If we could make schools be palaces, what would be in them?" This odd question was first posed by Samantha during the twins' second week in first grade; they'd tried kindergarten, but after finishing most of the workbooks for the year in two months, the school had contacted Josh and Donna, who in turn had consulted with Toby, Sam, and Mallory.

The girls weren't afraid. What they were was determined, and possessed of a driving persistence.

Not a single one of their parents had to ask where they got it from. They might have gifted the two with a rich environment and enough stimulus to fuel a small country's economy and enough reading material to make a tenth grader cry, but there was something, some indomitable core in their spirit, that was recognized and encouraged.

They got a bright, perfect hope in their eyes from Sam, and so his namesake asked the question in front of over a dozen students twice her size at an open classroom event in Chicago.

Everyone paused, and these kids, for a moment, didn't know what to do with such unbared idealism. They weren't used to it.

At last, an eighth grader who had introduced herself offhandedly as Leena stepped forward, beautiful dark eyes fixed on the little girl. "They'd have textbooks, and you could ask questions anytime."

Samantha paused and considered this definition. "What if you interrupted someone?"

Leena's mouth quirked a little bit, and her eyes lit up, highlighting the shading of her skin. "Okay, not then," she replied casually.

Toby was at this particular event while the others were busy with Congressional business (Sam had some fundraising to do, thank you very much), and watched the light in their eyes start to match.

"Everyone should have that," Samantha replied seriously. She'd always had it and so had her sister, and couldn't fathom not having it.

Leena extended her hand. "I'm Leandra Hudson. Most people call me Leena."

Sam took it. "Samantha Cregg. Pleased to meet you."

"You too, sweetie." Leena was smiling as she let go of the other's hand; when she'd argued with Toby earlier that no one paid attention to their school, her eyes had been dark and bitter. Now they held hope along with reality.

Toby watched the transformation, writing the girl's name down in his pocket notebook.

And now Josh, having heard the story from Toby, watched fearful reality bleed into the eyes of their daughters. 

"Why do they say that?" Josh managed finally, with an odd calm.

"We have a different last name," Abigail supplied.

"And Uncle Sam and Aunt Mallory came to the open house," Sam explained.

"The list of people who can pick them up from school is as long as my hand," Donna murmured as a reminder. "It also includes the Bartlets." 

"I like Aunt Zoey," Abigail objected.

"We do too, honey," Donna assured, glancing at Josh. He was still thinking, mouth slightly open.

"Listen to me. All of us--Donna and I, Sam and Mallory and Zoey and Charlie and Toby and Andrea and Carol and everyone--we are your parents, because we love you and you love us and you live with us and we do things together." He paused and took a breath. "Do you have blue eyes or that color hair or long hands because of us? No, you don't."

As Josh struggled to swallow the tears for the explanation he hoped, always, as the rest of them did, that would be put off until another time, disappointment that he couldn't stand because it wasn't even directed at anyone filled Samantha and Abigail's faces. "Why?" Abigail questioned first.

"You know Mommy Donna's going to have a baby, right?" They both nodded seriously. "There's a baby inside her. The two of you were never inside her, or Aunt Mallory or Aunt Zoey or Aunt Carol or Aunt Margaret. Almost everyone in your classes, they live with the mommy that had them inside of her. You don't."

"Where is she?" Samantha questioned, echoing her sister's query in Toby's office years ago. 

Josh went pale, color even leaching from his lips, as Donna glanced aside and swept dripping tears away from her face. "She, uh... she's not here anymore, because she died. She died, so she's not here anymore." He swallowed, wishing there was a point of comparison, but the lives of their families had been blessedly free of death the last years.

"So..." Samantha ran her fingers up and down her fork. "Dead is gone, Daddy Josh?" 

"Yeah, that's right."

"When?" 

Donna opened her mouth. _'A long time ago, before you can remember...'_ but Josh, having taken this on, would not soften nor lie to them, as they had all agreed long ago, still hoping that the curiosity the two had been raised with would take another bent. 

And, of course, that the kids at school wouldn't bring it up. Josh would later mutter they were all Republicans.

"There was an accident when you were born," he said, very muted. Noah is very quiet now, not even fidgeting.

"Like a car?" 

"There wasn't a car. It was just... I mean an accident, like no one did it on purpose." _But she did, she did,_ his mind screamed at him. _CJ did it on purpose and she expected to die and she did and she trusted all of you... and don't you dare say no one killed her because someone did, or a lot of someones..._

"Oh." There was a long, dull pause as the twins digested this. "Who's our dad?"

"We'll talk about that later," Donna interceded, seeing Josh near the end of his emotional rope.

"When later?"

"When you're older, okay?" They nodded slowly, and Josh tried to hide his shaking until he and Donna could go to their bedroom and he could sit next to her and dissolve in shaking sobs before calling the others and letting them know.

Jed Bartlet valued the jeweled spark of enthusiasm and idealism and intelligence in his granddaughters' eyes so much. Josh wondered if the older man would forgive him for draining it and leaving it faded and odd, or if Leo would glower at him for even thinking such a thing.

Either way, there was no going back from their first steps into political reality, and both girls said, a long time later, that the awareness of what lay behind that conversation spurred them on... because of this.

* * *

Jed Bartlet sat thoughtfully on the porch, ignoring the weather, as he watched his different kinds of family come together for the second year in a row. Some days, it was hard to believe it'd been a decade since he won the Presidency, but when all of them came up, there was no denying it, in Leo's wispier hair or Toby's salted beard or Donna's bright dignity or Josh's consideration or the conflict between reality and ideals in Sam's eyes or the confidence grown into Zoey and Charlie's expressions or in CJ's absence.

The children, too, are changing. Annie is still bright and determined, collegiate, her brothers trailing behind as ever. His next-oldest grandchildren, slender and dark blond and not of his blood, seem to demand knowledge with their very presence even though they are a little quieter this year. Huck and little CJ, their eyes full of Wyatt spark and with their father's dark hair, pull Toby out of the car before he's ready. Noah tucks one hand solemnly into his father's, as his mother bundles his little sister against the cold. Samantha and Abigail politely make sure Jocelyn can toddle on the driveway before turning their attention to Isaiah, who reaches his arms up to his mother. Jocelyn squats down to examine the pebbles exposed by wind and plow before her mother, looking a little rounded, scoops her up.

Andrea Wyatt and Carol step out of a car, still arguing about a bill Andi wants passed before she moves to her Senate office in January, and Leo and Will emerge from the other side with long-suffering looks, talking intensely. Someone, Jed notices, managed to talk Margaret into coming up here even though she always stays behind over regular vacation times to keep Josh's office running.

"How long have you been sitting out here in the cold?" Abbey demanded as she came up behind him. He reached one hand up automatically to meet hers.

"Not long. Look at them."

"I'm looking," she responded with a smile. "Leo doesn't look bored anymore, does he?"

"No, although I get the feeling he's had to listen to Carol and Andi argue all the way up."

"You going to come inside after they all come up, Jed?"

"Sure." Abbey patted his shoulder and stepped away a little.

Josh moved up the steps first, the wind exposing another sign that a decade has passed since he helped pull off the impossible. His face is as hesitant as his voice was on the phone a month ago. "Afternoon, sir," he said automatically. Abbey immediately dipped her chin down to hide her anticipatory laughter, as Jed stood to give out his first fatherly stare of the day. Josh's expression turned sheepish. "Sorry. Thanks for inviting us again, Jed." A pause. "I still can't get used to that."

"Yeah," Jed replied, lifting his eyebrows. "I can see how remembering my name would be tough." Josh's mouth quirked, and his hesitancy passed. "How you doing?"

"Good. We're doing good..." He stepped back a little after they hugged. "Abbey."

"Josh." Her head dipped in a nod this time. "Is there someone you'd like us to meet?"

"Yeah." He turned as Donna came up the stairs, the girls next to her, watching as if to make sure they'd be there to catch their little sister in case something happened. "This is Joann Delores Lyman," came the proud papa's statement. Donna lifted one hand to brush aside the corner of blanket covering her daughter's face, and both Bartlets grinned down at her for the first time.

"She's beautiful," Abbey complimented after a minute.

"And very healthy," Donna replied with a wry smile.

"Looking forward to when she realizes what nighttime is for?" Jed teased lightly. 

"Yeah," she laughed back. "It'll be a while, though."

"Go on in," Abbey directed, as Jed started to tickle Joann. Noah wandered over for a hug, and she embraced him before shooing him in the direction of the door. "Take your boots off!"

"I will, Grandma!" Josh and Donna followed their son inside, the former turning hesitantly as Samantha and Abigail hung back, giving their grandparents solemn looks.

"Honey?" Jed prompted gently. Two pairs of articulate, hesitant eyes met his, and he glimpsed Toby, at the bottom of the steps, putting out gentle arms to restrain his own twins.

Abbey waited with quiet patience. Finally, little Sam shuffled her feet against the boards of the porch. "Do you still love us?"

"We love you very much," Jed assured both of them, with a rich, full voice. "Very, very much." 

"Of course we love you," Abbey affirmed, crouching to eye level and gazing at both of them before embracing the girls in a hug. Her namesake's lips were a little pursed in thinking puzzlement as they pulled back.

"Everything's okay?" she quizzed.

"Yeah. I have hot chocolate," Abbey invited. Both girls' eyes lit up as though she'd offered them gold, and some of the doubt in their eyes was dispelled. They tumbled past her, working to get their own boots off even before they'd fully cleared the door.

Huck and Claudia dashed up for an undemanding hug, wanting to know if there was hot chocolate for them, too. There was, and shortly they and Toby were inside, sorting out the assortment of footwear that was accumulating by the door. Leo and Sam stepped up with Mallory between them, glowing and smiling, and Abbey lifted her eyebrows knowingly as greetings were exchanged. Leo's hazel eyes were bright and eloquent and happy... and younger. 

"How you doing?" his best friend checked. The McGarry smile answered him first, followed by a happy shake of the head. "Congratulations, Congressman," Jed greeted as Leo moved over to kiss Abbey.

Sam lifted his eyebrows, highlighting the expressive eyes beneath them. "Thank you." 

"How do you do it? It's supposed to be the most Republican district in California."

"Jed," Abbey chided gently.

"The same way you got Josh on board," Sam answered. "By daring them to vote for someone else."

"Huh," Jed grinned, hugging Mallory. 

At last, they all went inside, after Will had tried to insert himself into the argument between Carol and Andi and gotten smacked on the head for his trouble by both of them, and they found there was, indeed, enough hot chocolate for all who wanted it.

"Thank you all for coming," Jed greeted generally from a warm armchair. 

"We're still not sure where you're all sleeping," his wife contributed before he could go further. She'd said the same thing last year after they all were in one room.

"Boys and girls are in separate rooms," Leo half-snarked from his seat, with a mischievous grin.

"And I got you such a nice Christmas present," Mallory noted.

"She's got you there, my friend," Jed chuckled.

"Had to try." 

"Anyway... thank you all for coming to the second annual... whatever it is we're doing." Josh grinned and claimed his newborn daughter as Noah tried to start a game of tag. Donna snagged him by one arm, warning him that was later. "The idea is to have dinner in a while, followed by a whole lot of talking, and we'll just sort of repeat that over the next few days, and roll various celebrations into one before we separate for the year again five days from now." He surveyed all of them, noting that Ellie had somehow slipped in during the chaos of finding seats for everyone, and quiet, unconditional love filled his eyes. "Shop talk is strictly prohibited unless you find a way to relate it to our broader theme, so put your thinking caps on now."

* * *

Six men and four women had tucked themselves into chairs or sat casually on one of the rugs. The men were the same as seven years ago, but the women weren't, and that escaped no one, as Zoey curled on her husband's lap and Mallory linked hands with Sam. 

"Jed?" Leo prompted after a few minutes of his friend's unfocused and thinking gaze.

"Hmmm?" 

"Are we just gonna sit here?"

The former President cracked a smile. "Yeah, Leo, I thought we'd see if we could break the record set by that one meeting."

"Yeah, whatever."

Toby quirked his eyebrows a little. 

"Anybody keeping an eye on the kids?" Sam questioned as footsteps thumped overhead.

"Will and Margaret," Carol supplied.

"Oh, they're gonna have fun," Josh smirked.

"As are we," Jed noted, rubbing his hands together as if to declare that he'd made up his mind. Everyone seemed to straighten a little. "Our open classroom events have been successful and informative not just for those in the classroom or with children or students in the classroom, but for us as well. And I have been busy these last months with Leo, and it has come to our attention that many of us are extremely fortunate individuals in terms of the financial resources we have available."

Josh opened his mouth in anticipation and then shut it.

"It is with that in mind that I propose we take this another step further, that we work harder and stronger to achieve what is right, that we give back in order to achieve this goal, this right, this freedom, that all our people should have." 

"Sir..." Sam started. "Jed, are you trying to say that the ten of us, on our own, try to make schools into palaces?"

"No," Bartlet replied. "But we can sure get a start on it."

"I'm on board," Charlie contributed swiftly. No one had to ask why. "A small and dedicated group of people," he added in elaboration.

Smiles spread around the room. Jed locked gazes with Sam. "Are you in?" 

"Things are going to be different in eight years," the younger man objected mildly, aware of the layers behind the question.

"So?"

Toby used one hand to prop his chin up. "This is the halfway point," he said softly. "And Sam's right, things will be changing; but if there was ever a campaign worthy of this long consideration, it's his." 

"Mal?" Sam queried gently in response. Josh had already straightened, fidgeting, so that Donna rubbed one shoulder. 

Leo's daughter slowly turned her head and dipped it, nose just touching Sam's shoulder. Zoey watched her think, as Sam turned his own head, nose brushing his wife's hair. Sam's breath stirred her hair for a little while, as she directed her considering gaze downward.

"If Sam goes through it, I go through it," she declared, finally lifting her head. Her father grinned, eyes lighting up. "I won't ask you to drop out, I won't ask to be excused from a campaign stop or a fundraiser, and I won't be faceless. But I won't be handled, either. I know you're all going to be helping. I'm telling you now that you're going to give things to me straight. Don't sugarcoat something, and don't try to photo op me."

There was an admiring silence. "Have you been taking lessons from my mom?" Zoey wanted to know at last. 

"Mm-hmm," Mallory nodded, eyes brightening with a dangerous sparkle.

"Me too," she replied. "I've been in the public eye so much of my life. Let me help with all of this," came the request, as she looked around the room. Charlie's arms tightened a little and he kissed her upper arm. 

"Zoey, you want to help promote this?" Leo clarified. She nodded vigorously.

"The Galileo Foundation," Jed announced out of nowhere.

"Sir--Jed?" Carol asked.

"We'll call it the Galileo Foundation," he repeated, getting up and pacing a little. "The broader theme, the theme of exploration and asking the question and using technology to the fullest, and using our minds to the fullest, too. That's what we'll call it."

"Okay..." Josh drew the word out slowly. "And then what?"

"What's next, Josh, you're supposed to ask what's next." He rubbed his hands together. "We'll worry later after we get some money together about how exactly it's going to be handed out, but it should be based on something besides standardized test scores. It should be based on... something else. Real learning, if anyone can ever find a way to measure it."

"We give them a little," Charlie suggested. "See what they do with it."

"And then we come back in a year or two and see how those students are doing," Josh remarked. "If they're using it well, if it's helping..."

"Then they get more." Donna turned fully to face the rest of the room. "Positive reinforcement." 

"And Sam will be the first candidate in decades--begging your pardon, sir--to have an actual education platform." 

"Toby, what have I said about calling me sir?" 

"Sorry."

"Ah, forget it," Jed dismissed, waving a hand. "You're all going to do it sometime." 

"Jed and I can get this started," Leo recommended, leaning forward. "The rest of you have to keep it going, until it succeeds. We wanted so badly to make changes in education during our time in office, but it's so big that a President can't do it during a Presidency. It has to start from ordinary, concerned citizens, and right now that's us."

"What else are we doing to set up Sam's run?" Josh questioned.

"The voters already know he can run to the right and to the left, but he's always honest about it," Donna stated, leaning around Josh to look at Sam. "Sorry, Sam. You're just driving my bosses crazy, that's all."

"I'll fix that," Mallory assured with a small wink and a smug smile that they'd learned was a strong danger sign for someone.

"Sam, what are your chances of getting on a foreign relations committee in the House?" Josh wanted to know.

"It's not out of the question." 

"Energy or science and technology?"

"A little more likely."

"That'll help. We've all been able to afford the move to hybrid, but a lot of people are stuck at the stage in their finances where they keep complaining about gas prices, but also keep buying, you know, gas, and keep the cycle going."

"That may be taken care of for us," Toby observed, flipping through some pages in his notebook. "No one wants to say when the major world energy crisis is going to be, but we've been hearing about it for over thirty years. I'd say it's coming sooner rather than later."

"I've got it," Sam said crisply. "It's actually getting me votes right now." 

"The hybrid stuff?" Charlie asked. Sam nodded. 

"Yep. Ethanol, hybrid, electric, hydrogen... these people will be able to afford it, so they'll want it while it's still a status symbol."

"You should hear some of them," Carol griped.

"I'll be pushing that direction, too," Josh told them. "I may as well use the influence I've got, although why I've got it isn't quite clear to me..."

"You're both pretty quiet," Mallory told her father and Jed.

"We're just here to get you young people started," the former President replied.

"Jed and I are the past," Leo advised them, sitting back in his chair to survey the room in a fashion everyone who'd been in a senior staff meeting recognized. "You guys are the future in so many ways. Josh, Sam, Toby, Donna, Carol, Zoey, Charlie, Mallory, Will, Margaret, Andrea, and your kids... you're the future. We're just here to help you start realizing it." 

Josh ducked his head a little, then stood up and came over to Leo, extending his hand. Leo slowly took it. "We just formed it."

"Formed what?" the older man questioned. 

"The link between the past and the future," Josh answered. "And I promise you, it's never gonna break."

* * *

Josh would forever blame himself for what happened the following summer. Never mind the fact that it would have affected someone, regardless. No one could talk him down from it; not Leo, not Jed, not Donna, not Mallory, who had herself acknowledged and worried over the risks.

Sam had ushered in his second Congressional term with a seat on the foreign relations committee. Also on it was Ben Anders, a Republican even Josh liked, and who would continue to appear in bipartisan efforts for the rest of his political career. The Senate equivalent gained the freshman Senator from Maryland. 

And then, in noises that sounded oddly familiar to old Bartlet staffers, Israel and the Palestinian Authority, after an unusually violent year, made it known they were tired of it. The interest was considerable, in the hopes it would be successful and stabilize the region. Andrea Wyatt had previous experience in this area, and was a natural choice. Sam wanted peace, and so Josh wielded his considerable influence for favors that turned out to be bigger than anyone involved knew or wanted.

A month prior to the delegation's departure, Sam and Mallory greeted their son, Zachary Edward, and also, as had been the case the previous summer, welcomed Samantha and Abigail for their twelve-week summer vacation. Donna had worried about that, too, but Mallory insisted it would be fine and that the girls could even help with the baby, and she was right, although in a much different way than she had expected.

* * *

"I think it's going pretty well," Sam noted. 

"What was that?" Andi called back over the sounds of city traffic.

"I said Ben Anders is a Democrat," came the retort.

"You did not."

"All right," Sam agreed.

"What'd you really say?" 

"It's going pretty good."

"Yeah." Andi looked around at their escort with discomfort. She could respect the desire of the Israeli government to protect the delegation when they were out of doors, especially with the talks nearing a fruitful completion, but two uniformed guys with machine guns was just a little oppressive.

They were close. They really, honestly, seemed to be close to something. This would take decades to permeate through the traditions and ancient conflicts, but without it, there would be nothing to counteract those same conflicts. Stiff penalties for terrorism and stiff penalties for police or army firing on anyone who was unarmed, it was hoped, would slow things down a little.

Who knew? But if they didn't work something out, they'd never know. 

"Walken's running with Haffley," Sam said after a minute.

"Yeah..." she sighed wearily. "The party's getting desperate..."

"They came to me." 

"You're kidding."

"No." Sam stopped and looked around at a sudden rush of movement; abruptly, their guards picked up the pace, moving them along with one hand on their backs.

Someone was faster. Sam caught a glimpse of thrown movement and gripped Andi by the arm, propelling her in front of him and sideways-

A sudden flinching.

Screams and shouts.

Ouch.

Mallory?

CJ?

Dammit, Andi...

Sam smacked solidly into the ground, thoroughly stunned, bleeding from cuts along his right side. A few feet away was Andi, unconscious but appearing less injured.

Pipe bomb? 

_Don't they go for things that are a little, well, bigger over here?_

A distinctive, echoing sound that he'd never forget. One guard was lying closer to the street, bleeding, his handgun knocked away; apparently he'd never had a chance to use it. The second guard was scrabbling furiously up, glaring.

And shooting.

And being shot.

Sam flinched in horror and regret and fear, one hand, streaked with blood, gripping at the ground.

Their guy did all right, apparently. Or there was only one guy trying to blow them up to begin with. Sam would wonder if the other thinks he's dead, as he moves past Sam, who's lying there gasping into the dirt, but he's breathing so loud and he's clearly still bleeding and a terrorist would know what wounds were really fatal, wouldn't they?

He can hear crying, as a man whose name he'll never learn bends over Andi and rolls her over, his mouth twisting. He can catch "Zionist" from the other's brief mutter, inflection making it all too clear it's an epithet. 

_Targeted. We were targeted, they know Andi used to be married to Toby... oh, God, we were targeted... no..._

The other man reaches for Andi.

Sam boils. He's not going to play possum for this, he's not, he's not...

_I wonder if this'll compensate for how we failed CJ..._

Amazing how fast adrenaline can make someone move, as Sam, a tattered bundle of protective fury, knocks the other man back several steps, adding a swift punch to the jaw. Sam's still in pain, though; something he only realizes fully after he staggers back, legs clenching. He falls over not far from where he started.

The effects of a punch to the jaw and a flying tackle don't last very long on the obsessed, especially when they have a gun. He pulls it out again.

Sam draws a harsh breath. At least he didn't have to see it nine years ago.

His hand scrabbles backward and runs into something cold and hard.

The first guard's gun.

Sam struggles up a little bit as he grabs it, and not just for better possible aim. He's not going to take this lying down. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a woman across the street running and wailing, grief out loud.

He's still working painfully at the safety when he hears that sound again, and pain rips through his already abused midsection.

Gutshot. Sam swallows and determinedly lifts the firearm, somehow finding the strength to pitch forward onto his stomach and what will all the dirt in the wound matter as the terrorist shoots again.

_At least it's not a bomb, I suppose. Oh, ow..._

Mallory...

Sam realizes he's fired when he hears that sound again. So very loud, and more echoing at the source.

_Hope it's... safe..._

Sorry, Toby...

Sam slowly blinked his pain-racked eyes a few times, then shut out the dirt, and the light, and the pain.

* * *

"Joy, please put it down," Mallory directed. The two-year-old pouted up at her, then reluctantly set the bottle of formula back on the table.

"Do you want to build with us, Aunt Mallory?" Sam invited as she came into the dining room, nibbling on a cookie.

Mal closed her eyes for an exasperated second. "You know you're not supposed to be walking and eating at the same time, and I can come out in a few minutes." 

"Sorry. And okay." She grinned toothily, exposing where some adult teeth were about to come in.

"But Jocelyn can play with you," Mallory continued. The seven-year-old grinned.

"Great! Joy, do you want to play building?"

"Building play," she agreed, wiggling in her seat. Samantha came over and lifted her up.

"Do you want to build a farm?"

"Horses."

"We can't build horses. We can pretend there are horses on the farm, though," Sam gently advised.

"Yay!"

Mallory watched them go, then turned back to Zachary, who was solemnly staring around. Jocelyn had been one of those perky, assertive infants; Zach looked to be the stoic type.

In the living room, the girls giggled over the silly barn they were making. Abigail's hair swung past her face as she regarded the crooked structure solemnly. "That's such a funny shape."

"We're unconve--unconvent--" Samantha stopped and looked frustrated. 

"Unconvential," her sister enunciated carefully. 

"That doesn't sound right."

"I think it's missing a syllable."

"Joy, that's..." Sam stopped and smiled.

"I like," came the proclamation.

"Unconventional," Abigail exclaimed triumphantly.

"That's a long word."

"We like long words." Abigail tucked her hair back, totally unashamed of her possible status as a geek. "They're cool." 

"Uncle Sam thinks they're really cool."

"Daddy," Jocelyn smiled.

"Yeah, Daddy..." Samantha considered a section of fencing and adjusted it.

In Washington, Josh slowly put the phone down, then rested his head in his hands, covering his face. After a long moment accompanied by a shaking breath, he lifted his head and rubbed one hand across his face. His eyes, when he lifted them to the door, were pained and brimming with tears.

"Margaret."

Her response was nearly instantaneous. "Yeah?" Pale features tightened in anxiety. "Josh? Are you okay?"

"I need Mallory in California." He paused. "And then I need you to call someone for me."

"Josh?"

"Yeah?" 

"What's wrong?"

"Come here," he directed. She came in and sat in front of his desk, nervousness visibly rising. "I need you to call Leo after you get through to Mallory. And you'll need to know why."

Margaret nodded vigorously. "Okay." Still staring at him, she swallowed as his expression became even more tortured.

"Part of the delegation that went to Israel to feel out possible peace negotiations was attacked a couple of hours ago."

"Which part?"

"Sam and Andrea Wyatt were being guarded by two members of Israel's Armed Forces when a bomb went off in the street near them." Margaret blanched as Josh searched for words. "They're both still alive, but it looks like Sam was shot in the stomach. Leo's going to ask you if it was a targeted attack. We don't know yet. They're both going to be flown to a more secure region as soon as possible."

Margaret stood up, almost tripping on the chair leg. "I'll get you Mallory," she promised before retreating. A minute later, she called out, "Mal's on line one." 

"Thanks." Josh felt as though he was reaching for the receiver in slow motion. At last, he picked it up and put it to his ear. "Mallory? It's Josh."

Minutes later, Mallory put the phone down and stared across at her son, who gurgled and blinked his eyes, a dark version of the Seaborn blue, at her, or maybe just at the room in general. Slowly, she pushed herself out of the chair and walked to the living room.

The twins looked up as soon as she crossed the threshold. Samantha stood immediately, delicate features working through fear and worry and concern. Abigail took one glance and gently pulled Jocelyn's hands back from the farm set, scooping her up protectively.

These two had spent most of their lives close to the center of things. It would have been impossible for them not to be aware of it when something was wrong. 

"Aunt Mallory?" Samantha whispered. Her aunt's pale features turned to her a little, eyes abruptly brimming with tears. "What happened?"

Mal swallowed. She had to get through this. She had to. She had to tell them. "Joy, honey?" Her daughter's eyes were slowly transforming into duplicates of her grandfather's, and the sleepy blink reflected puzzlement. "Daddy's been hurt, okay? We're going to go for a plane ride."

"Daddy hurt?" Quick, fresh tears spilled, highlighting the little rim of blue around the hazel.

"Yeah, sweetie, we're going to go see him." Mallory stepped forward and her daughter reached for her, Abigail lifting her a little as mother and daughter engaged in a protective, tear-filled hug.

The twins' lips quivered, but they did what they had seen their parents do since they were old enough to remember, Abigail volunteering first. "I'll pack some clothes for her and Zach."

"Is Zach still on his bottle?" came Samantha on her heels. Mallory wiped away her tears as she nodded.

"Thanks," she got out as Samantha nodded back and took off for the dining room. Mallory heard a sniffle as she went by.

The phone rang, and Mal jumped. They could hear Samantha's voice in the kitchen.

"Seaborn residence." Pause. "Just a minute, Grandpa Leo." A longer pause, and she appeared around the corner. "Aunt Mallory, it's your dad."

"Thanks, honey, I heard." Mal rubbed her hand across her face again and handed Jocelyn back to Abigail, who immediately started chattering away about what her favorite clothes were. Sam vanished back around the corner and had Zach working on his bottle again by the time Mallory picked up the phone.

"Hey, Mal," he greeted gently.

"Hi, Dad." Tears filled her eyes again and she sniffled, aware of how her voice quivered. "Josh called me."

"Yeah, that's what Margaret said. You doing okay?" His tone indicated clearly that he'd be on the very next plane flight out there, even if it cost a million dollars, if she showed the slightest doubt. 

"Yeah, we're, um, we're getting ready to fly to DC at least..."

"Mal, are you okay?" he asked, more insistently this time.

"It's Sam," she whispered back to a long pause.

"And?" he prompted painfully. She could hear what this was costing him.

"Josh didn't say if it was on purpose..."

"They don't know yet." Samantha looked over at her as she stomped one foot in frustrated agony.

"I want to know..."

"We all do, baby. Can you manage?"

"Yeah," she sniffled. 

"Margaret was working on your flight the last I heard," he continued gently. "She'll be calling soon."

"I don't want the phone to ring."

There was an understanding pause. "Okay, I'll tell her. What else do you need?"

"Sam to be okay," she answered, lifting her gaze skyward.

"He's gonna be fine."

"You don't know that, Dad."

"I know that Sam Seaborn's got every reason in the world to come out of this," he responded in that rough, strained voice.

"I know," Mallory whispered back. "I just... Dad, this wouldn't have happened if he didn't want to do bigger things."

"Yeah." He paused, apparently out of words, and Mallory was on the edge of asking him if he was still there when he spoke again. "After this, therefore because of this. Mallory, he's doing what he wanted to do, and while this isn't the best time to get into this, Sam wouldn't have it any other way. I can promise you that, and you know that. You've always known that, since the first time you met him." 

"I know. I'm just... so angry right now."

"I know, baby. I've got to tell Margaret about not calling. Call if you need anything, okay?"

"I will. I love you, Dad." 

"I love you too."

Zach burped as she hung up, and Mallory felt her lips quirk into a small smile in spite of her tears as she turned. Her husband's namesake regarded her solemnly. "Are you doing okay?"

Samantha nodded back at her vigorously, continuing to pat Zach on the back. "I'll call Aunt Margaret. He's almost done, and he's doing that sleepy burp thing."

Mallory's eyes flicked around restlessly, suddenly seeing Sam everywhere. "I can finish-" she started.

"You need to pack, too. And," her delicate mouth curved into a smile even as Zachary belched all over the burp cloth, almost getting her hair, "we might be a year and a half ahead of the other kids our age, but Abigail and I aren't old enough to drive, even if you added our ages up."

Mal stared at her for a second, then started to giggle. "Thank you," she gasped out a few minutes later after getting herself under control again. "I do need to drive." She rubbed a hand across her forehead against the tension headache developing as she went upstairs.

A few minutes later, Zach had fallen asleep on Sam's shoulder, so she put him down into his laid-back seat and headed for the phone, flipping through the address book even though she was pretty sure she had the number memorized.

"Hi, Aunt Margaret. It's Samantha."

"Hey, sweetie," she answered. "I heard I wasn't supposed to call."

"Yeah, I, uh, Aunt Mallory..." Samantha trailed off before taking another tack and focusing on the reason for her call. "Are we going to be able to get a flight?"

"If you can be at the airport in an hour, there's a flight leaving eighty minutes after that. It's a little tight with four little kids along, but you can do it."

"We're little kids?" Sam asked in mock indignation.

"All right," Margaret conceded with good humor, "two little kids."

"Can the flight have a baby on board?"

"Yes, and you've got good seating." Margaret took a breath, as thought about to explain that it'd been fortunate it was relatively early in the day and it was a weekday, then thought better of it.

"We can't fly all the way with Zach, though."

"We'll have something worked out by the time you get there. Carol will be meeting you there and coming with you if you fly on to wherever they get moved to. Toby may be coming as well with Huck and Claudia, but we're not sure yet."

"Oh, yeah, are they doing okay?" Samantha's brows drew together in worry. She didn't see Mallory step gently down the stairs and stop, watching her face in gentle profile against the window curtains. She was frowning, just a little, holding a pen in her right hand and cupping the phone with her left, ready to hold it against her shoulder if she needed to, something she had probably learned by watching Donna do it so many times when she was little. Her focused, concerned poise reminded Mallory of a time she'd watched CJ take down information on a flash flood in Bulgaria: needing information and yet terribly concerned about the purely human aspect.

So like. In that moment, Mallory understood the guilt she sometimes saw in Sam's eyes, or the protective care even as he nurtured them to quest for knowledge. Guilt pulled at her then, because however indirect and after the fact her involvement was, she too was one of the reasons CJ had done what she did. Had CJ lived, these girls wouldn't have to be coping with yet another crisis in such a direct fashion.

For all that they were doing just fine with it, would they someday realize that they could have had a much more relaxed childhood, one more like their peers'? Would they be angry at their surrogate parents for raising them up in the core of the storm that helped keep the world running?

The moment changed as Margaret answered Samantha's question, and her expression relaxed a little. "They seem to be doing all right so far."

Mallory stepped back upstairs softly. "That's good," Sam answered. "Can you give me the flight information?"

* * *

Ten days later, after his family's flight to Europe and a joint flight back to the US, plus hours of surgery and Mallory and Leo both holding his hands when the morphine drip wore off before the next one could be administered, Sam was carefully propped up a little in bed, legs slightly bent to keep the abused joints from locking without encouraging blood to pool too close to his other injuries. He blinked wearily, realizing that while he was pretty uncomfortable, there wasn't any substantial pain, and he didn't appear to be high on any medications...

There was a tap on the door, and Leo stepped in, eyeing his son-in-law with concern. "How you doing?" 

"Better. I'm not high right now, am I?" he joked weakly, wincing as he realized that Leo probably wasn't the best person to ask.

"If you can ask, you're not high," came the retort, as the older man sat down by the bed. "So how you doing?"

"Pretty good. I think I get out of here in a day or two."

"Yeah, you got some pretty nasty bumps." Leo paused and sat back. "Sam, I've got a full report on the attack. Do you want it now, or do you want to wait until it's been a little longer?"

"Now, please." Sam turned his gaze directly to Leo's. "I already know we were targeted."

Leo nodded and sighed. "I don't know whether it was the fact that you were American and walking the streets that really got them, or the fact that a member of the delegation used to be married to a Jewish man, but, yeah, it was on purpose."

"Did both the guards die?"

"Yeah, they did. However..." Leo leaned forward to look Sam in the eye. "There were a number of eyewitnesses across the street who saw what happened after the second guard was shot." A long pause, as Sam's eyes grew more startled in realization. "I know what you did, Sam, and so does Toby. The rest of the world doesn't know yet, but it will by later today or tomorrow."

"And?" Sam inquired in a near-whisper, looking down and rubbing the sheet between his fingers.

"You saved Andrea Wyatt, and then you shot the guy." Leo shook his head. "I didn't know you knew how to fire a gun, Sam."

"I don't," Sam said hoarsely. "He was about to kill me... almost did. I got lucky."

"Yeah, I guess you did."

"Does Josh know?"

"Know what?"

"That I shot a guy."

"Yeah."

"And?" 

"He's fine with it, Sam. It's not... It's not the same thing at all. He's fine with it."

"Really?" 

"Sam, he's proud of you for being alive. It's okay." 

"What else do we know?"

"They're still tracking down the organization, but the Palestinians are pretty pissed. The Authority, that is. It actually helped the peace talks, which made Andi happy."

"Does she know--know what..." Sam faltered and closed his eyes.

"She knows you shot the terrorist before you passed out." Leo paused at the odd look on Sam's face. "What is it?"

"What did the eyewitnesses see?"

"They saw you tackle the guy and saw a knife, and told us that you jumped up because he was about to kill her." Sam went white. "Sam, what is it?" 

"I... she..." Sam's throat suddenly dried up, and he couldn't speak.

"What's wrong?" Leo's brow knit in concern, eyes flashing into deep worry.

Sam shook his head, an unbearable expression on his face.

"Sam?" Leo queried urgently. "What didn't they tell us?"

"He was... he was..." Sam gasped. "CJ," he finally got out.

"What? Sam, I don't..." Leo shook his head in confusion, still watching his son-in-law with concern.

"He thought I was... was unconscious, or dead," Sam panted, eyes wide and full of horrible memory. "He went past me and..." he gulped for air, "reached for Andi."

Leo still looked puzzled, shaking his head.

Or maybe he didn't want to hear this twice in his life, and especially not from the same man. 

"He was going to..." Sam shuddered. "Going to... to... he was going to... to..."

It registered suddenly, and Leo's features went absolutely slack and pale, even as his mind whispered that Sam must have been hallucinating, must have been imagining their attacker's intent as he lay injured, not even fully conscious. "Oh, God."

Sam was trembling now with the force of almost speaking it, tears spilling from his eyes as he grimaced against the pain of aggravated injuries. "I couldn't let him..."

Leo reached forward and gently wrapped his arms around Sam. "We didn't know. We didn't... you really did save her, Sam, she's fine..."

"Yeah." Sam took a gulping breath and tightened his grip on Leo. "CJ would say this is because of Jed's favorite Latin phrase."

"Because of this?" Leo inquired, pulling back just a little to look Sam in the eye again. "Yeah, maybe."

"I heard the girls did good."

"Sam and Abigail? Yeah, Mallory said they were incredible. Sometimes I don't know if we're doing the right thing by their childhood, but she said they were more organized than she was."

"You think they're old enough to know?"

"No," Leo returned. "And you shouldn't be thinking about this. Go back to sleep or something." 

"Was there anything more on the attack?"

"Nope. Seriously, Sam, go to sleep, and later on Carol's going to come in with some new polling data."

"For campaigning? I'm not going to do it if Mallory's upset."

"She is, but not about you running for the House again."

"And the other thing?"

"You'd have to ask her, but I think you actually don't have anything to worry about, as long as you don't cut her out of the campaign."

"Yeah." Sam lay back wearily, and Leo laid a hand on his forehead, smoothing the hair back a few times.

"It'll all still be here in the morning. You're game day players... yeah, that's it, fall asleep... shhh, Sam. It's going to be okay."


	32. What Kinds of Incidents?

_What Kinds Of Incidents?_

Four years later, Walken was still President, and the first young adults to go through all of high school in a district assisted by the Galileo Foundation celebrated their commencement ceremonies (in inner-city Chicago, in Houston, in a rural district in North Dakota, on a reservation in Arizona), and Sam Seaborn had been elected to the US Senate.

The Republicans staying in power was Qumar's fault; they were still pissed about the base, and one of their government officials was funding terrorist organizations in his spare time. Glen Allen Walken was both unimpressed and pissed off when one of those organizations threatened to blow up the Space Needle, and followed the trail relentlessly until the source was discovered. Two weeks later, only seven months before the 2010 Presidential elections, Abdul Shareef vanished completely. Americans voted for the guy who had kept them safe, or at least a little more than fifty percent of them did.

Josh was now working for the Minority Leader; they'd lost a couple of seats through retirements and people running for the Senate instead and not being able to run a House and Presidential campaign at the same time. The margin was narrow enough to just make his work more interesting instead of wholly frustrating.

The same year, California voters had been more fond of Sam than ever before, seeing him as, like Walken, able to protect his fellow Americans. The state party leaders told him to gear up for a Senate run, which was exactly what he'd been planning on doing in 2012 anyway. The state was more Democratic than the 47th, anyway, and there were a couple of candidates a little further right than he was who still might be able to help them out in the House. There was a knobbed scar on his right ear and a jagged line on his upper right arm, and sometimes his hand would drift over to his stomach, but he was still Sam Seaborn and half the voters thought he was ten years younger than he actually was.

And he still wanted to go on.

Will was taking care of the Galileo Foundation; Zoey was doing just about everything else for it even as she took care of her daughter Therese Emily, born just six weeks before Election Day 2010. When he wasn't performing administrative duties, Will was taking on health care, with the same determination that had gained Toby's interest nearly a decade before. It would be just a short while before he was leading Galileo only in name as he struggled to establish something similar for health care. Charlie, with visible hesitation because it wasn't what he thought he'd really enjoy even if it did bring in money, found a respectable New England law firm. And then he did his job beautifully and wondered if one day Josh was going to walk in on him as he'd walked in on Sam and pull him away to do the real work he loved.

They were all waiting and hoping for that moment.

And two of them almost didn't get to see it.

Shortly after Walken's second Inaugural, which Josh swore was the cause after he was able to joke about it, just before Donna was due to give birth to their second son, they got a call from Zoey. For all that Leo and sometimes Jed traveled, both men considered New Hampshire their effective home. All Zoey knew when she called the first time was that both of them had gone to the hospital within hours of each other with a horrible fever and coughing. 

Donna, still trying to help women break the invisible glass ceiling and keep their rights, was at home on maternity leave already, and warned Zoey to call her with updates, not Josh. No, not Josh, who couldn't possibly make it home from work early today, not so early in the term and not while dealing with the shifting dynamics... not even for a death.

She didn't know how Margaret was managing. Josh did know the basics and was probably shouting every ten seconds. Margaret could deal with that just fine; she'd had it enough from Leo during her time as his assistant. As long as Josh didn't start worrying about the actual problem, which was Leo and Jed, they'd both be fine.

She could imagine Sam blanching, highlighting the scars from the attack a year and a half ago, and making sure Mallory knew and could go to the hospital all right. Carol's expressive face would tighten as another friend and leader faced the possibility of the end... and then she too would check on Mallory.

Charlie had gone home, then to the hospital with Zoey, watching his mother-in-law pace restlessly, eyes glimmering with fearful tears that spilled only when another family member came into the room, whether it was Ellie or Elizabeth or Annie, very much grown up and with the kind of strategic mind Josh always sparred with on their annual family visits.

Zoey didn't call again until almost midnight. It was pneumonia, she told them. They weren't sure of either father's chances. Jed was a little on the heavy side and had multiple sclerosis. Leo had been taking good care of himself for the last several years, but not so much the prior few decades.

Donna set the phone down and whispered to Josh that it was pneumonia and they were doing everything they could. He blinked and asked if someone was keeping Toby updated, too; he was doing guest lectures on the other side of the country. Carol was, she answered softly, and Josh nodded and wrapped his arms around Noah, who would turn six in April. The twins asked if there was anything they could do, whispering soft prayers in response as Joann woke up again and was scooped up protectively by her father. Donna sat with her hands cupped over her stomach and waited, leaning her head back on the cushions and trying to swallow the tears. Josh was hesitantly murmuring words she'd only heard before from Toby.

She wasn't surprised when she felt contractions a little before dawn. It went perfectly with the events of the past day.

"Josh," she prodded gently. He continued sleeping, face buried in his son's hair, one arm around his daughter. Both of them were fast asleep as well. "Josh," she tried again, a little louder. "Wake up."

"Huh?" Abigail opened her eyes and rubbed them. "What's the matter?"

"Josh, the Republicans are coming!" Donna tried again, voice strained with exasperation. Samantha sat up at that, blinking back her amusement quickly when she saw Donna's expression. Both girls knew what the even grunt of air that followed was, and jumped up as Donna lay back, one hand over her face.

"Uncle Josh, it's Aunt Donna!" 

"Buh wha huh?" came the groggy inquiry as he tried to sit up. "Donna?"

"I'm in labor, you idiot," she interceded before the twins had a chance.

"Oh. Oh, man..." his eyes widened as he glanced around. "Hospital... uh... drive... not awake yet."

"I'll wake you up if you don't start moving soon!" she exploded anxiously.

"Right." He hopped up and started searching for his keys. "Yeah... Sam, can you call Aunt Carol real quick for me, please?"

"Sure." The nine-year-old took off for the phone, as her twin poked Noah and then picked up Joann.

It took until dinnertime, but a little boy finally arrived into the world.

"Not so much with the shorter labor this time," Josh griped. "Cute, though." 

"He better be cute," Donna grimaced. "Where's the kids?"

"Waiting room. Carol's got them... she came once we realized it would take a while."

"Any word on-" Donna questioned. Josh shook his head.

"Eight pounds and five ounces," one of the hospital staff announced. Donna moaned softly.

"Don't remind me." The nurse just smiled down at her. She'd probably heard it before.

"What do you want to name him?" Josh asked after a few minutes. 

Donna looked up at him with faint tears in her eyes. "I know it would sound corny under any other circumstances," she answered softly, "but... I don't know if they're going to make it."

"It's not corny," he told her, feeling tears himself. "It's not."

"They're such good men... they should make it, but if they don't, we need to honor them," Donna murmured, almost to herself.

"It's okay..." Josh stroked her damp forehead.

"Josiah Leopold..."

"It's really Leo," he pointed out. She poked him.

"Josiah Leo doesn't sound as good." 

"CJ called Leo Leopold sometimes, you know." 

"That settles it, then."

Ultimately, slowly, Jed and Leo shook off the pneumonia, but it was months before Abbey would let them walk around the farm by themselves, let alone bareheaded. Sam and Mallory wept in relief, and Charlie wrapped his arms protectively around Zoey, gathering Ellie in without hesitation when she would have cried alone, and they all gave thanks with a shuddering sigh of relief. Even after Sam told him it would have been too soon for either of them, Leo reminded the younger man that he and Jed were two old men, and things happened. Sam just warned him that Abbey would be all over him if he so much as sniffled, and expressed with his eyes that they weren't ready for another gap in the ranks of friends and family.

Sam despised his Senate campaign, which he started while his fathers were still recovering. After the tenth frustrated outburst, Carol folded her arms and stared at him across the office, while Sam almost took a step back.

"You know why you don't like running, Sam?"

"Yeah... no... I don't know," he answered, running his hands through his hair. 

"It takes time away from helping people." His head jerked up and his hands dropped to his sides, as he stared at the woman he'd met as CJ's assistant. "Do you need me to break out your strategy box?" Carol continued.

"Uh... no," Sam decided. "I need to know when the first electric cars are coming off the line, though."

"The affordable ones or the unaffordable ones?"

"The mass-produced ones."

"Three weeks."

"I need an event. Also an event at a Galileo school when they get back from the break... and some, uh, other things..."

"I'm getting you a policy wonk," Carol told him, spinning and heading for the door. "I'm also getting you someone on the other side of the press thing."

"You're not one anymore?" 

"Sam, I'm not from California and most of my background is PR. We need you to run on energy, education, and health care in the state with, like, the fifth biggest economy in the world, and for that you need someone besides me."

"Who are you getting?"

"Danny Concannon for the one thing, and Will Bailey."

"Danny's already been helping out, and Will's mired in the thing."

"When isn't he?" she questioned.

"Fair point."

"When do you want him?"

"Sometime before I go totally insane."

"Sam, a time that actually matters." 

"This week?"

"I'll work on it." 

"All right, thanks. And Carol?"

"Yes?" 

"I need some good researchers."

Pause. "Bonnie and Ginger are going to kill you. They're making a lot of money now."

"They like me."

"Okay," Carol sighed with a faint smile, heading for the phone.

It worked, and in January 2013 Sam moved into his Senate office, thanking all of his campaign staffers, including the two youngest ones. Abigail was going by Al now because she thought it made her sound older, and Samantha was constantly having to clarify which Sam she was on written materials, but the two of them had used their summer break in the most unusual way. Not so much for these girls, perhaps, and not a one of their parents had blinked twice when they asked about volunteering with Sam's campaign, running around to canvass and put up signs and everything else they could possibly, legally do. Anyone on campaign staff who didn't take them seriously within a day was moved elsewhere, although it didn't happen much. They were skilled with words and Democratic to the core, and while they were a little young for a campaign, a little inexperienced, they made up for it with determination and inspiration; inspiration that helped fuel the involvement of their peers, then and later.

* * *

Samantha stood in the doorway to the kitchen for a few minutes, watching the family there. Her blue eyes were deep in thought, and after the first glance at her Noah distracted his parents for a few minutes while he finished cutting some cheese sticks for his sister's lunch tomorrow, and then ducked out, giving her a smile on the way. He always dimpled in the most cheerful fashion at her, but right now it was a reminder of why she was standing there. Aunt Donna stopped her work on sandwiches after a bit to check on Josiah, and it was just Uncle Josh, who was restlessly sorting silverware. Sam was pretty sure he knew she was there, and was waiting for her to speak.

On the fourth round of inspecting the forks for water stains, she sighed, just a little, and straightened her long and presently skinny frame away from the wall. Eleven years old and already five foot seven... one of the times it was truly a blessing she and Al were so far ahead of their age peers in school. If they'd had to go through fifth grade like this, they would have been absolutely miserable, although going through three sizes of jeans in a year, which they had, would have been embarrassing regardless of which grade they were in. There were, indeed, all sorts of advantages to being in their age and in their grade and having their background with interacting with people, but there was no hiding the fact that her oddly-shaped eyes and sharp features bore no resemblance to those of the two people who usually attended parent-teacher conferences. Nor did they bear any resemblance to anyone authorized to pick either girl up from school, although both knew that if Uncle Albert lived close enough, he'd be on the list, and he did look like them.

Which led to her standing here right now.

"Uncle Josh?" Her voice was soft, almost muted, but it carried, and Josh spun around, light glancing against the silver that had crept into his hair in the last year or so.

"Hey, Sam." He glanced down at the drawer. "I was just sorting through the silverware..." 

"Did you know I was there?" she inquired, tilting her head a little bit, eyes sparkling with a gentle mix of respect and amusement.

"Yeah." He lifted his eyebrows a little bit in an odd way, as if waiting for her to challenge him over it.

"Why are we different?" At his confused look, she elaborated, grateful that she hadn't asked Uncle Toby this question. He would have been quite cranky over her sentence construction. "Al and I, we're... I don't know, we're kind of different. Why?"

"You're smarter, different," Uncle Josh told her. He had this look on his face.

Sam sighed and stepped all the way into the kitchen. "That's not what I meant, Uncle Josh. Al and I look different, we... we are different. If there weren't so many divorces in this country, we'd be even more different."

"Fifty percent," he answered mildly.

"That's a false statistic," she retorted precisely.

"Just checking."

"Uncle Josh... Al asked a long time ago who our mother was, and you told us she died because of an accident. You didn't tell us her name, and you wouldn't tell us who our father was, and neither has anyone else. We're older; when do we get to find out?" Standing a few feet away, she barely had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. He turned fully and took a step toward her, brown eyes full of something she couldn't identify, for all that she'd seen so many expressions from all of them over the years.

"Do you remember the White House?" he asked slowly, after a long pause.

"Of course. We were five when we left. I miss it."

"Why'd we leave?"

Sam's expression was skeptical and puzzled. "President Bartlet's second term was done, and all of you worked for him. The new President was a Republican."

"Yeah." He paused, and then drew a sniffling breath. "It's funny that Abigail's been going by Al, 'cause those are her initials... Abigail Leona. Your mother never used her full name, either." One hand pinched his nose, then covered his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Samantha..."

"What is it?" Sam stood at arm's length, watching her uncle, one of the fathers she knew, wrestle with something she didn't understand, hadn't been allowed to understand. She'd been raised in the dynamics of relationships of all sorts, but she didn't understand this.

"Your mother worked with us. She was..." He paused again, taking another deep breath. "We've all had eleven years to figure out what to say when you asked us, because it's not a good story." 

"Because of my mom?" Sam asked, her eyes huge and worried. Josh shook his head vigorously.

"Your mother was a wonderful person, one of the most gifted and dedicated people I've ever met. Too dedicated for her own good. That's where you get it from, her and Uncle Sam."

"Is Uncle Sam-" 

"He's not your father," Uncle Josh answered, almost too fast. "None of us are your biological father."

"So what are you going to tell me?" Samantha asked after a pause. 

His eyebrows quirked up a little bit when he glanced up, almost startled, as though he'd forgotten she was still there. "You're smart, and I don't want to lie to you, but... wait, why is it just you asking?"

"I'm asking for both of us."

"Samantha... I can't tell you all of it. I can't even tell you half of it. We all agreed, before you were old enough to remember, that whenever you asked, we wouldn't leave it to just one or two of us to tell the two of you."

"When can I ask again? I, uh... Uncle Josh, I don't want to wait until Christmas, and neither does Al."

"This weekend." 

"Okay... can I know anything before then?"

"You really are curious, aren't you?"

"If you didn't want me to be curious, you shouldn't have let me read all those memos when I was younger," she came back with a smile. Then her features turned more solemn, in a fashion that was old for her age. "Aunt Margaret would say I'm asking for the Cliff Notes version."

"You were born in the White House," he said softly.

"We were?"

"Yeah. In the, uh, the Press Secretary's office."

"Why?" she asked with a frown after a brief pause.

"Your mother was the Press Secretary."

"That's, like, high-ranking," she observed, seeing something more about this in his expression. "Why weren't we born in the hospital?" 

"It was ten days before the State of the Union. We were all there for prep; she was supposed to go on leave a week later. It was a late leave, but she was Press Secretary to the President of the United States. And, uh, there was a full lockdown for something or other, and we were all stuck in our offices or whatever room we were in at the time, including your mother. And she went into labor and gave birth to both of you right there in her office..." Josh trailed off, closing his eyes against stillness and blood and the realization that she'd known...

Too dedicated.

"Why'd she die?"

"There were... complications. You'll have to ask Uncle Sam; I don't think any of the rest of us remember. We... didn't want to. We'd lost a lot more than a colleague that day, and still had the election to go through... we didn't want to hear what had gone wrong."

"You said she never went by her full name..." Samantha prodded after a minute, her face utterly serious, blinking against tears. What had her mother done for them, or to them, that could still make Uncle Josh fight back tears after this long?

"CJ." He took a breath. "Claudia Jean."

"That's beautiful," Sam said shyly, ducking her head a little.

Josh actually chuckled a little bit. "It went better in press briefings that she went by CJ, though."

"Yeah, it's short. Is that where Claudia gets her name from?"

"Yeah... sometimes Toby and Andi call her little CJ."

"What else can you tell me?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you anything else," Uncle Josh confessed after a long pause.

"Can you tell me where our names come from?"

"Oh, yeah, that I can tell you. You're Samantha Joan; Samantha for Sam, and Joan for my sister Joanie who died. Abigail Leona is for Abbey Bartlet, and Leona for Leo. She... she wanted to honor as many of us as possible. We were a family, and Grandpa Jed and Grandpa Leo consider your mother one of their daughters, no less than Zoey or Mallory."

Sam was silent for a while, digesting this. "Can I see a picture?" 

"Of your mom? Yeah, sure. Just a minute." He stepped away from the counter toward the door, then backtracked and swept her into a strong hug. Sam heard him sniffle into her hair. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" he requested in a whisper. She nodded, and looked after him, wondering again and still what her mother had done that this would still be... whatever... she'd have to ask Uncle Toby what the word, or words, was or were... over ten years later.

A few minutes later she heard him come back down the stairs, talking to Aunt Donna.

"This is a good one." 

"Give me that, Josh. You're going to drop it." 

"I've never dropped a picture of CJ."

"You may have a point there."

"Of course I do. Could you give me the five by seven, please?" They appeared around the corner as she added another frame onto the small pile in his hands. Aunt Donna smiled a little bit at Sam before retreating back out of sight, as Uncle Josh came up to the counter and gently deposited his burden, as careful as if they were threads of spun glass.

"These are just a few," Uncle Josh confessed softly as he lifted the five by seven off the pile. "This is, uh, actually from a photo op in the Mural Room during our second year in office; it accidentally focused on CJ instead of the President."

Sam took it lightly in her hands and studied it, recognizing her own features. Even with glasses on, the eyes were a grace note, and her mother, fully grown into adulthood, was still slender, her arms long. Her hair made her face look shorter than it really was, and Sam suspected that her hands, had they been in the frame, would have been as long as her own. And the hair color was similar, even if the style was totally different.

Uncle Josh picked up another one. "This is during a briefing shortly after the start of our third year. It was a bit of a madhouse, as I recall." Her hair was a little lighter, a little longer in this picture, the oblique profile angle highlighting a nose that was familiar to Samantha. But that was nothing compared to the next one. "The night of the Illinois primary," Josh noted simply. "After we won." CJ's hair was clipped up, and she was hugging Toby and grinning, looking up in the direction of the camera, her eyes bright and triumphant.

"We look a lot like her," Sam observed when she could speak. 

"Yeah, you sort of do. I think your hair's a little darker, and your faces are a little different. But there's no question that you're both CJ's daughters."

"There's another one?" she asked, observing Josh's hands hovering over the last frame on the counter.

"Yeah. It's actually of all of us, at some formal dinner I can't remember..." He flipped it over, showing five men in white tie and one woman, taller than all the men, in a floor-length gown.

"May I keep this?" Samantha asked after a few minutes.

"If you still want it at the end of the weekend, yes, you and Al can have it." 

"Thanks." She hugged him, still looking down at the pictures. "Night, Uncle Josh."

"Bed already?" he asked, hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her head.

"Al and I'll probably fall asleep talking."

"Don't forget to turn off the light."

"We won't," she promised, stepping away with a grin and sounding almost normal, as though she didn't memorize the House and Senate facebooks as soon as they came out instead of memorizing the new Top 40 songs of the year. "Night, Aunt Donna! Night, Noah!"

"Noah's already in bed, Sam," Donna called down. "And good night!" 

"Oops, sorry!" She dashed upstairs, and after a few minutes Donna came into the kitchen.

"How can you always tell them apart?"

"Al's inflections are a little different, and lucky guesses."

"Yeah..." Josh sighed and wrapped his arms around her. "I'll call Sam." 

"Yeah... they'll drop stuff to be here. They will." 

"I know," he said softly, looking over at the pictures still spread out on the counter. "I know." 

"Josh?"

"I promised," he whispered, and it didn't matter which promise he was talking about.

* * *

Leo had canceled a lecture.

Carol was leaving Sam's office to the mercy of his junior staff, hoping the weekend and the fact that it was, after all, summer and there wasn't really that much stuff would protect them from any major disasters.

Sam and Mallory had delayed a vacation, leaving Joy and Zach to Zoey, who, while involved, hadn't been one of the people entrusted with this decision, this answer.

Charlie was putting off trial preparation.

Danny, ever trusted with finding something to brighten the girls' day when he saw them, cut short some research and arrived, face utterly serious.

Toby, again on the other side of the country, had taken the first flight back.

Jed and Abbey arrived with solemn suited shadows.

Donna had needed to explain to her boss why she couldn't be at an event on Saturday, feeling fortunate the whole while that her boss was still Amy Gardner. She'd shooed her kids off with Joy and Zach and Isaiah and Therese, reminding Noah that he needed to help.

Now this solemn assemblage, bound by loyalty and family and purpose, waited in Josh and Donna's large living room. They were here not because they were the center of this, but because Sam and Al hadn't gone out to California for the summer yet, and indeed might not this year, and because it was close to Jed and Abbey and Leo, three people for whom travel could be a little complicated sometimes. And they were here because through the slow twining of strategy and purpose, they had the briefing tapes and the scrapbooks and so much else, tucked away and hidden in silence.

There was uncertainty. Just because they'd discussed this hundreds of times and settled on a course of action didn't mean they were unable to be concerned about it, and the same things that had made these people good at what they did, their ability to see the human side of it, made them all the more vulnerable now.

Before the end of this, CJ's children would cry, and they all searched within themselves for a way to prevent that.

Ultimately, each decided that the promise of truth was worth it, that it must be held to, and solidified a little, with a deep breath or a straightening of posture or a silent assurance in the eyes.

They had, after all, in whatever way, brought themselves here, and honoring the beautiful and tragic legacy of determination and truth and the real issues and the real thing CJ had left them, they would see this through.

And having faith in things not yet seen, they would all trust and hope that CJ's children would not shatter under the truth.

Sam and Al sat next to each other, looking around with identical expressions of concern. It was so similar to CJ's 'what's wrong that you aren't telling me' look that Leo had to suppress a shiver.

Abbey and Charlie and Donna and Carol and Mallory were mostly here for the sake of support as far as the five older men were concerned. Their decisions, and their responsibility, made this their burden, and Josh had already borne more than his share in answering the initial questions. 

"Girls?" Leo prompted gently. They looked at him hesitantly, Al biting her lip, both images of awkward grace. Sam tucked a few strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail back behind her ear, then tugged on it.

"The kids at school think we're weird-"

"-and we're different than all of you-"

"-we always have to go to the office to fill out our emergency cards-"

"-because there are so many people on them-"

"-we've got different last names-"

"And it took Uncle Josh five minutes to tell me our mother's name the other night."

"We don't know what we did."

"Or what she did. What did she do? Uncle Josh almost started crying..."

"And sometimes Uncle Sam gets that look on his face when we ask about press releases-"

"-or press briefings, and relations-"

"-we don't know anything else, and we like it."

"It's not fair not to tell us!" 

"It's almost like even though we've been immersed in politics our whole lives, you don't really want us involved, even though we're good at it-"

"-probably because we have been involved in it our whole lives-"

"-because of something our mother did, or didn't do, or whatever..."

"We just want to know!"

"We love all of you, but why do we have so many parents?"

"What question would you like answered first?" Toby asked after a considering pause. 

"Why is there a bill with our name on it?"

Donna went white. Toby paled visibly, and Sam's eyes grew huge as Mallory put one hand on his. Josh just sat there with a hand over his face, and Jed and Abbey and Leo stared at the girls. Charlie blinked and opened his mouth, then shut it again, and Carol linked her hands together.

"It's actually called the Family Education and-" Leo started.

"We know that, Grandpa Leo." Abigail folded her hands and set them on one knee. "It's also called the Cregg Bill. Why?"

"It's named after your mother," Charlie supplied when no one else did.

"Why?" 

"The same reason you have so many parents," Leo answered.

"But no father, father..." Al trailed off in question.

"No, Abigail," Abbey replied levelly, her voice filled with pain. "You have no father, but you have three legal fathers."

"Huh?" Sam wrinkled her face in confusion.

"Toby, Josh, and Sam all have equal legal custody of and responsibility for you," Donna explained. "They all agreed to be like fathers to you, and they have been."

"We're not arguing against that," Al hastened, detecting some hurt in her voice.

"We love all of you, we just..." Sam trailed off hesitantly. "Who are our parents?"

There was another pause. Jed finally leaned forward. "Samantha, Abigail. On your birth certificates, there is no father listed. You have three fathers legally because your mother had the foresight to make sure there would be at least two or three people to take care of you until you turned eighteen." 

"Why!" Al exploded, her tone laced with despair. She turned to Sam, the uncle she'd turned to for every other question. "Why?"

Mallory's grip on Sam tightened. They couldn't avoid it. These girls were too smart.

"We don't know," Sam said at last. He lifted his head and looked right at the girls. "We don't know," he repeated in a whisper. They recognized the look of hurt and pain, but didn't know the guilt of knowledge behind it.

"How can you not..." Al trailed off in distressed confusion.

"You said she wasn't a bad person," Sam added, turning to Josh, almost in accusation.

"She wasn't," Josh replied, eyes filling as he took Donna's hand.

"She wasn't," Toby repeated with conviction.

"It wasn't a... one of those things we've read about in the papers?"

"A scandalous one-night stand?" Charlie clarified. "No." 

"Aunt Carol?" Al asked. "You knew her, too..." 

"I was her assistant," Carol clarified.

Donna looked up and shook her head in a preemptive communication. Mallory winced as she looked at her father, suddenly aging again.

"Grandma Abbey?" Sam whispered. One little tear trickled down, and she ignored it, holding something else as being more important.

Abbey Bartlet took an extremely careful breath and closed her eyes briefly. Toby actually looked away for a moment.

"You girls know, at the age of eleven, more about the state of our country and about statistics and what works and what doesn't than most people learn in their entire lives." They nodded in agreement. "You've read crime statistics, so you know there are people out there who like to hurt other people, or just do it. There are men who like to hurt women, and-" she stopped as both girls started shaking their heads. She glanced over at Donna.

"Sam, Al?" Donna tried gently. "I need you to listen to me, okay? Your mother didn't do anything wrong. You haven't done anything wrong. We all love both of you very much. You have to listen to me right now, all right?" They nodded, opening their eyes and focusing on her. "Some of these men decided early one morning to attack someone who was running, and that was your mother. And they hurt her very badly, and they-they assaulted her. That was," and here she hesitated, trying to control her trembling voice, "that... that made her pregnant."

It was finally out there. It was ultimately Donna, whom CJ had called first, who spoke the truth they'd promised to themselves and to CJ to speak so long ago. CJ had wanted them to be a little older, but she could have never anticipated the skilled problem-solving thought processes of her twins. And so it was now... and they watched anxiously, almost hoping that the girls were too young to understand, but at the same time hoping they understood now, and wouldn't find out in some crude moment a year or two down the road.

All doubts were erased as Al reacted first, starting to jump up out of her seat. Sam leaned back, shaking.

"I-" Al couldn't even articulate herself, so she turned away, one leg lifting as if to start running. Sam was suddenly there, hands gently taking her shoulders and turning her back around.

"Don't go, Al," he directed. She stared at him, tears starting to flow, and tried to tug away a little. "Abigail, stay here, please." The force of his second plea stopped her, and she sat back down next to her sister. 

"Crime statistics," Samantha said evenly. "Rape and battery. Cases go underreported each year, although policy centers believe there has been improvement in the past decade. Approximately 20 percent of sexual assaults result in pregnancy. The Family Education and Anti-Violence Act of 2004, aka the Cregg Bill, imposes stiffer penalties for such assaults and fast-tracks cases resulting in pregnancy to minimal-fee abortions with no moral counseling." Her voice was quiet and vacant, for all that it carried throughout the room, then it broke. "Oh, my God... my mother was... 2001... she's a statistic..."

"Shhh," Toby said softly, getting up. He came over and knelt in front of her, reaching his hands out to just touch her upper arms. Sam dissolved into tears and leaned fully into the proffered hug, as Toby rubbed her back gently. "Shhh..."

"She's very much like you," Leo whispered to Sam.

The younger man lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah," he agreed softly.

Several minutes later, both girls took a deep breath and wiped the tears off their faces again, then looked around.

"You don't always want us involved in politics..." Al trailed off.

"It's not always pretty or nice," Josh answered. "We started off with every intent to protect you from it, even when we were still in the White House, but it didn't work out that way."

"Why?" 

"Why didn't it work out that way?" Carol asked. 

"No, why did you want to protect us?"

"Your mother was one of the strongest people I've ever known," Charlie remarked. "She trusted these guys to not let you get hurt, and that was the first thing they thought of. That didn't work out at all, but politics can be dirty. We didn't want you to get hurt by anything, especially that, because CJ was a political player and she knew how dirty it could get, and we were all scared she was going to find some way to kick our, you know, our collective butt. She was a strong person."

They both turned to look at him in puzzlement, as did Jed, raising his eyebrows in complete approval. 

"There was a scandal for you," Sam figured out first. She turned to Jed. "People didn't know about your multiple sclerosis."

"That's right."

There was a thoughtful silence while the girls turned this over, eyes turning ever more realistic. Josh had to look away several times, and Leo regarded his granddaughters with worry. Jed just waited. If they asked, the answer was his responsibility, and his alone.

"It was the year before we were born."

"Yeah," Carol affirmed.

"Why did she have us?"

"We know about the Christian Right," Al clarified, as Toby opened his mouth. "The scandal was when she was pregnant."

"And I don't want to meta this question," Sam declared, looking over at Toby.

"Actually," Jed corrected, "the scandal started about a week before she was attacked. And then she made a mistake, and everyone was angry at her, and then the thing happened. But, yeah, most of the scandal was when she knew she was pregnant. She testified before a grand jury about two weeks before she found out officially."

"Officially?" they queried in concert.

"CJ came to me first," Abbey replied quietly. "I was under investigation as well, and I couldn't be the official physician for the purpose of an announcement."

"Why didn't she-" Sam jumped off the couch and stared down at them all. "Why did she have us? I don't want to sound ungrateful because otherwise we wouldn't be here, but she was--she was. I'm not thinking straight, either, but why was there an announcement at all?"

Had the circumstances been any less serious, broad smiles would have been exchanged around the room. As it was, a bit of Toby's beard lifted suspiciously in a decidedly approving fashion, and Josh and Sam both gazed up at her. It was as though CJ's own voice, suppressed through those months of pregnancy by the need to succeed in the strategy and then afterwards by death, had come down through the years and forced its way through her daughter's being.

CJ's daughters had inherited her dislike of injustice, and her ability to be outraged. Even when it was something like this, even when they were on an emotional ride to rival any other, they were outraged.

Problem solving.

But they couldn't fix this; they could only find out about it, and these adults could only hope that the second and colder piece of the puzzle wouldn't entirely break the already tarnished light in Sam and Al's eyes.

"She was protecting me," Jed said quietly in response. Sam sat down with a thump. "She was protecting me, because we couldn't afford to have two scandals at once. Her scandal shouldn't have been one, but it would have, because at that time a large percentage of the public was convinced I wasn't trustworthy, and that extended to my staff as well. So CJ, in all her dedication, and with everything she had, took serving and protecting the President to an entirely different level and worked out strategy for my reelection, for possible second term-scenarios. She worked out the press strategy that allowed Josh and Donna to date and marry even though he was still her boss at the time. And she told Sam he'd be good in public office. She left us something extraordinary, and not a day goes by that we don't think of her and give thanks and at the same time wonder if we're doing a good enough job with you and if the price really had to be that high, because none of us wanted CJ to protect me if that was the cost."

Sam bowed his head, as Mallory rubbed his shoulder. Josh let what Jed had just said sink in for a while, then turned to the girls.

"We were absolutely devastated. CJ was our sister and friend and daughter. Between when she died and her funeral, we were all... gone. And then we came back and we rewrote the State of the Union on the same day it was to be delivered and we hit the ground running and we tackled the issues and we continued CJ's beautiful, tragic strategy, because that sort of thing demands we honor it by striving to meet and exceed it. It's why Sam likes to run on education and energy. It's why Donna works for women's rights. It's why Charlie takes on those cases at his law firm. It's why you've met children from schools that haven't had enough money for a hundred years. It's why we keep talking about helping people, and it's why we talk about raising the level of public debate in this country and changing politics for the better. It's why the Galileo Foundation exists. It's why dozens of other pieces of legislation exist besides the Cregg Bill. And it's why we love you so very much, because we've all, for the past decade, been passing around the note she wrote during the lockdown when you were delivered, because even when she knew she was dying, she still said she loved you. And it's why you're precious and intelligent and graceful and caring and want the right thing, because you're the daughters of CJ Cregg."

"In fact," Leo noted into the ensuing silence once he was able to speak, "what Josh said just now pretty much is the capsule version of how we've felt since you were born and CJ died."

"What else?" Carol asked after several minutes, as Sam and Al continued to sit there, blinking and very clearly turning something over in their heads they weren't ready to say yet.

"Who else gets custody?" Al managed, just a little vacantly. Sam hesitated before he answered.

"If something happens to Josh and Toby and I, then Carol and Donna will have custody. If something happens to Carol and Donna, then Jed and Abbey and Leo. If something happens to the three of them, I think Charlie and Margaret would take care of you. After them... I know originally Liz and Ellie and Zoey were named."

"How do you know?" Sam asked raggedly.

"CJ asked me to recommend some lawyers to her."

"Why?"

"She wanted you to be taken care of no matter what happened, Samantha," Sam replied gently.

"So she knew she might die?"

"Yeah." 

"How do you know?"

Apparently Josh had transferred his strategic skills. "She told me."

"Grandpa Jed just said that none of you wanted her to protect him at that cost."

"I didn't, either. She had a better argument than I did, and she was more determined, and if Jed Bartlet had lost the election because of her, it could have destroyed her." 

"Sam!" Leo exclaimed.

"The truth, Leo," Sam returned with fire. Then he focused on the girls again, eyes questioning and anxious.

"Okay, that's, uh..."

"... a lot of stuff."

"May we go upstairs?"

"You girls want dinner?" Donna offered gently. They shook their heads, looking just a little sick at the concept. "Okay. Let us know if you change your minds."

"Thanks. We won't." They stood and went upstairs very slowly.

After the door closed, there was a loud, collective exhale.

"Please let that have been the right conversation we had just now," Josh whispered.

* * *

_My mother was a victim._

_My father was a rapist._

_Love couldn't possibly have had anything to do with bringing me into the world._

_Why did she do it?_

_Am I that ungrateful to be alive?_

_What's Sam thinking about?_

_What's Al thinking?_

"What're you thinking?"

Sam lifted her eyes slowly from the bedspread and looked at a wavering mirror of herself. "I don't want to be smart anymore." She paused. "What are you thinking?"

"They're guilty. And I can't stand this." Her slender fingers traced a path down her wrist before she jumped up. "I can't stand it."

Sam watched her for a few minutes, standing there in agony inside herself, only the fact that they were twins enabling her to understand and reach out to the core of pained destruction. "You know," she said slowly, "you remind me of the time we went to the Pittsburgh Zoo, and they had a short film running near the gorilla exhibit of when they had one gorilla who didn't have enough space. It just was still, like you are now."

"I thought you said you didn't want to be smart anymore," Al returned, voice fiery with the effort of suppressing something she didn't want to look at.

"I don't. But I am, and so are you."

"They taught us about nature and nurture in science last year," Abigail noted, seemingly randomly. Sam's eyes flicked upward.

"I think we just learned everything else we need to know."

"Nurture helps a lot."

"Uncle Josh said we remind him of CJ."

"Of course we do."

"I just called our mother CJ. How does this work, anyway? Do I refer to her as 'my mother', or what?" Sam asked no one at all, tears pooling a little. "And he meant besides physically. He said that was where we got our dedication from."

Al sat down on the floor, curling herself up a little. "I don't feel dedicated." 

"Yeah," Sam answered quietly.

"We shouldn't have to deal with this."

"No. But we asked."

"This is what happens when we act like we're five years older than we are."

"Chronological age doesn't need to be that important."

"But eleven is too young for this."

"Which this?" Samantha asked her sister, eyes dark and shattered with reality and the history of grief. "Which thing?"

Abigail looked up at the ceiling. "I honestly don't know anymore."

* * *

It was over a week before the twins laughed again. Noah couldn't understand why they were so quiet and pale and grave, these sisters he'd always known, and retreated into himself a little. Toby warned Andrea to not bring Huck and Claudia to visit, and waited quietly, all of them giving these two the same courtesy and time they would have granted her mother. Sam sent Mallory back to California, and eventually Leo and Charlie between them talked Jed and Abbey into going back up to New Hampshire. Carol stayed, hoping she'd see and know what she hadn't wanted to see or know with CJ, but what she owed to CJ to see now...

What they laughed at wasn't even particularly funny, but no one said anything, hoping that it signaled some hope; dreadfully afraid that it didn't.

They didn't do anything for Father's Day; the old assistants took them out for the day instead, at Donna's request. She knew they couldn't give anything to Josh or Toby or Sam or even Jed or Leo this year.

And so it drew to the end of June, and passed into early July, and Leo's gaze upon Sam and Al became ever more thoughtful. Twelve years earlier, he'd been asked to be a first phone call for something utterly devastating, and he wondered if, perhaps, they would do the same. In any case, the time of year weighed heavily on him. And he worried, because there was something almost unnaturally graceful about Sam's movements, almost translucent about Al's posture of thought.

Decades later, the two would write eerily identical passages about how the presence of the other helped; that alone, each would have completely snapped under the weight, but having someone else there who truly understood, because how much more understanding can one get than a twin, helped immensely, even though immense help still meant almost a month of that muted, nearly beaten stillness. In the end, curiosity rose again, and so did a little bit of their bright, sparkling, gracious minds, and both stood solemnly in front of Carol.

"Aunt Carol?" Al's voice was just above a whisper, as though her voice could never ring out fully again after learning something so painful.

"We have two questions," Sam continued, her hands linked in front of her, eyes fearful and bold and direct and determined.

Carol looked at both of them, then met Sam's eyes, and a little prickle ran down her back and CJ's voice whispered down the years. _'You're my assistant, Carol. You've seen me all sorts of ways, and that's going to make them curious, and maybe at the same time, you're going to see one of them looking at you like I would have. This is why I want you there. If you held me together after Pakistan, and after Haiti and the MS, and when I couldn't be in the same room as Josh without having a panic attack, you'll know what to do for those two. If Josh and Donna work it out, she might nurture them more, but it's you I'm trusting with their well-being when they're old enough to need you.'_

So she rested an elbow against the edge of a shelf, and replied, "Okay. What are the two questions?"

"You first," Al directed.

"Mine's not as serious."

"That's why it should be first." Carol smiled a little bit and lifted her eyebrows as she watched them reason it out.

"I'm concerned it'll sound irreverent."

"Order isn't going to change that."

Sam actually paused and pursed her lips. "You have a point," she conceded.

"Well, then?" Al prompted.

"What's the silliest thing our mom ever did at a briefing?" Sam asked, tone and face nervous. 

"I'll have to think about that," Carol told her. "Al, what was your question?"

"It sounds too serious now."

"It's okay," she reassured.

Al seemed to soften and think, and gazed at Carol directly, her eyes questing. "Where is she?" the question came at last. 

Carol shifted just a little, not breaking eye contact. "There's a cemetery just outside DC. It was close enough to visit while we were still at the White House." Sam blushed and ducked her head, and Carol realized that Sam hadn't wanted to ask the question. "And the silliest thing was insulting Danny's spelling."

"Really?" They looked at her with a bit of a grin, eyes starting to sparkle.

"Yeah, really." 

"Can we go?" Sam asked, and she wasn't asking if they could leave the room.

"Yes." Carol waited a beat. "But Toby or Josh have to come, too."

"Can Grandpa Leo go with us?" Al wanted to know.

"If he wants to, sure." There was a tension in Carol's eyes, but she'd had years to develop a guarded face in front of the press. CJ's two girls couldn't see through her.

Could they?

The answer didn't matter when they stood, Carol and Leo and Toby, watching two tall, slender figures gaze solemnly down, their faces cast by the sun into shadows of thoughtful puzzlement, for Carol had to fling teardrops to the wind. Al turned, and Carol smiled at her, just a little, and the girl's lips tilted into a faint, familiar smile before turning back.

"I can't believe I've never been here."

"Actually, you were," Leo corrected.

"We were?"

"When you were a year old."

"We came here," Toby breathed, "on the day of the President's second Inaugural. It was unbelievably cold, and I would have stood in the same spot the entire day if asked, because every second the President stood there with all of us was a moment he was thanking your mother for what she'd done." 

"I remember," Carol said softly. "Next to that State of the Union, that was when I understood why he was a good President, and why all of you believed in his ability to lead." 

"'Us', Carol," Leo corrected gently. "Don't exclude yourself."

"I think it was when I stopped excluding myself so much," she reflected.

Samantha turned. "How do you tell?"

"Tell what, Sam?" Leo replied.

"When someone's a good President, and whether they can lead, and..." she paused to think. "How can you tell when you should trust the inspiring words of a campaign?"

"Does Sam believe in his speeches?" Toby asked her.

"Of course. Otherwise he wouldn't deliver them."

"How can you tell?"

"He gets this look on his face, and emphasizes all of the right words, and I've heard him arguing with his writers when they wanted him to soften something or go to the right, and also the people listening to the speech get a look on their face, and the way his voice fills up... I don't know," she concluded in frustration. Al had turned a little, too, her profile thoughtful and highlighted against the horizon.

Toby, however, smiled a little. "That's exactly how you tell. There's nothing specific you can point to. It's a gut feeling, and it's the job of everyone else around that person to convince everyone else in the district, or state, or country, to believe that too. But it's also their job to convince everyone else to think about the issues and why their candidate is right." 

"And then," Leo chimed in, "you give them a hard question and see if they tell the truth. That's how you tell the real thing apart from the rest of them."

"How did our mom know?" Al asked, still half-turned.

There was a pause, and Leo looked at Toby.

"I flew out to California at Leo's request because we both knew she was as capable a person as you could ask for and liberal enough for the President to want on board." Toby shifted just a little then, and glanced down. "I told her that Jed Bartlet was a good man, and she joined the campaign."

"That's how else you know?" Sam asked, her eyes sharp and inquiring.

"Yeah." Toby stuck his hands in his pockets. "But you don't need to worry about this for a while."

There was a tilted smile from both of them, and then they turned back, finally kneeling next to the marker and tracing the words on it.

_I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States..._

Some would say Samantha and Abigail Cregg never had any choice in the matter, that nurture had bound them too strongly to the world of politics for them to ever turn away. Those people had never wandered into a schoolroom they were visiting for Galileo, or seen them brightly pushing for cleaner energy at a campaign desk. Curiosity drove them on again, too, and Al stood and turned, knowing she might be about to say the very thing her mother might have feared, the reason her parents had vowed before to protect them from politics. 

CJ's choice that had never been a choice had granted these girls, and perhaps their contemporaries and generations to follow, a further choice, a freedom undreamed of before. For them, there was no glass ceiling, and they could do what they wanted and years of watching Donna and Sam and Josh and Carol and Will in the boiling morass of politics had shown them the kind of dedication they needed. Both knew, and were frequently reminded, that white males made up over sixty percent of the federal government.

Toby recognized the posture of determination, and tightened his lips, watching CJ's dedication reach down through the years again. _But not at so great a price... please, not at so great a price._

Leo just watched, until both girls stood and he saw the treasured flame of idealism again.

"Aunt Carol?"

"Yeah?" Carol had seen it, too.

"Are there tapes of her briefings?"

"Yes."

"Do you have them?"

"Josh and Donna do."

"Okay." 

"It's okay to be eleven years old for a while," Leo reminded them.

"Being eleven years old doesn't preclude being an aware citizen," Sam replied.

Leo grinned at this precious gift, even as he swallowed away the possibility of tragedy, for these girls were far too young for this. "Okay then."

"We already know all this stuff. Not using it would be a waste."

"You're going to make government young again?" Leo asked.

Sam shrugged with young confidence. "Eventually. Right now, Al and I want to watch those briefings, so we understand. Maybe after we do, we won't want to do this anymore. But it'll be our choice."

Leo took Sam's face between his hands and gently tilted her head forward until he could kiss her forehead. And so the fear that had woven its way through the years started to fade away, and they hoped, having all somehow overcome the barrier of truth they feared would be insurmountable, that the other product of CJ's dedication would be within their grasp.


	33. This Country Is Meant To Be Unfinished

_This Country Is Meant To Be Unfinished_

Sam and Al were about to start eighth grade, and the juxtaposition of ordinary politics and ordinary family life were driving their parents, all of them, a little crazy.

Conversations about getting some pets were interspersed with rants on election reform. Discussions of whether or not to redecorate anyone's bedroom were frequently interrupted by gripes about maneuvers locking women out of government yet again.

Incidentally, the pets issue turned out mixed, with Donna persuading Josh that, yes, cats were actually good for you, as Sam convinced Mallory that a relatively calm Labrador would work out just fine, and Zoey and Charlie, with a new baby, opting for the guinea pig route for a couple of years. (Then they sort of changed their minds because Isaiah really wanted something to cuddle like his older buddy Noah, and wound up with some cats and for reasons Charlie was never sure of, a Welsh Corgi.) The bedroom results were even more confusing, and the only one completely happy was Therese, who loved her new room and gladly agreed that a number of things should go to her younger sibling.

Election reform stalled out again, and the percentage of women in government dropped for the third straight year. No one was surprised about the reform; there was a general election in a year and lack of reform was definitely to the benefit of the Republicans.

"Senator? A minute?"

Sam turned to face Neil Dwyer, with Mareen Ricks behind him.

"Congressman, Congresswoman," he greeted affably. "Your election reform's about to die in committee."

"Yeah, I know," Ricks responded. 

"What can I do for you?"

"We've heard things about Charlie Young."

"What things?" 

"He'd like to move on from his law firm."

"He's a respected partner there," Sam replied smoothly.

"He'd like to run for office."

"Him and a couple thousand other lawyers."

"Massachusetts is going to have an opening," Dwyer advised.

"I hadn't heard," Sam answered. "Where?"

They just lifted significant eyebrows at him.

"Oh," he realized, drawing out the word of realization. "Thought you'd give me a heads-up?" 

"That and we wanted to talk to you about the health care bill."

"The House is making it toothless again?" he guessed.

"Sam, the people in our districts want reasonable health care, too," Ricks reminded.

"Sorry." 

"No problem; we're not from California. That's a big constituency."

"Detroit's a rural area now?" he smirked to Mareen.

"Oh, yeah," she answered. "And Neil here was elected by 2,000 people in New York." 

"All right, all right."

"It's going to pass, but the Republicans are going to attach an amendment." 

"No, no, no, no, no." Sam shook his head vigorously. "May as well ditch it."

"The most important provisions will run out in six years."

"So we'll have until 2019 to fix health care in this country? I can hear Will Bailey screaming from here."

"It doesn't count when he's in the building," Dwyer noted.

"Ouch. Well, you're both more experienced in the House than I am. What's going to happen to it?"

"It's going to pass, with that amendment, and the next day insurance companies everywhere will start screaming bloody murder," Dwyer answered smugly.

"What about the profit audits?" Sam wanted to know.

"They got softened a little bit."

"This is as good we can get, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Well..." Sam sighed and folded his arms. "You're practically the only two people I know with a stronger stance on health care reform than Will Bailey and myself, so if you're not going on a rampage over it..." 

"If we're still here in six years, we'll try to get a tougher bill." Ricks paused and tilted her head, looking up at him. "You still going to be here?"

Sam gazed thoughtfully ahead. "Yeah, sure," he answered with a smile.

* * *

"I don't understand the sudden interest in the environment," Margaret repeated, as Josh stared at her blankly. 

"We need them."

"We didn't used to," she insisted. "Toby told Leo once that they had to screw the environmental lobby."

"You shouldn't eavesdrop so much, and that was over ten years ago. Some of the extremist groups that were giving environmentalists a bad name have disappeared and other ones have gotten new leaders and a new message. Aside from that, the world energy crisis is a little more pending than it was when Bartlet was President, and energy and the environment have become linked." Josh shrugged a little bit. "I still have no idea what Anders and Skinner are doing meeting with environmentalists and Democrats at the same time, but what we're doing is trying to figure out a long-term solution and sneak it under the Republican's noses."

"Isn't that a little hard when they're in the meeting with you?" she questioned.

"Yeah, but we like these Republicans."

"Oh, my God, you've been replaced by one of those aliens," she responded, tone deadpan and eyes wide.

"Whatever," he said with a smirk. "Make sure Carol knows that Sam needs to bring the stats on deforestation and replanting for the West Coast region." 

"Right." She paused. "Can I just ask why we're pushing this now?"

"Walken's ignoring the energy crisis and we're still spewing greenhouse gases into the atmosphere." 

"All right. Oh, and Amy Gardner called. She wanted me to remind you that women have a stake in the environment, too." 

"Okay," he answered with quirked eyebrows, pulling his suit jacket on. "I'm going to this meeting. When I get back, I need to meet with the Minority Leader and the Whip of both houses, as well as someone from the DNC."

"You need to meet with your boss?"

"Yeah, I need to meet with Jamieson and the others. They'll know why." He picked up some folders and started walking backwards to the door. "Also I need to know Sam's position on all the major issues, and Senator Wyatt's office is supposed to call. Frederick's stopping by with the education thing, and..." he opened the door. "You know all this already, don't you?"

"Yes, but I was waiting to see if you would trip on something."

"Sadist," he grumped with a smile.

"Thank you!" Margaret called as he shut the door.

* * *

The family gathering was as fun as ever that year. Somehow, each year they all kept cramming into the farmhouse: Zoey, Charlie, Annie, sometimes Ellie (who loved medical research like the rest of them loved politics), Toby, Sam, Mallory, Josh, Donna, sometimes Andrea, Carol, Will, Margaret, Samantha, Al, Huck, Claudia, Noah, Joann, Therese, Isaiah, Joy, Josiah, Zach, and Danielle. Jed held his newest granddaughter and Sam and Al looked on shyly, still a little uncertain after six months, until Charlie gently tugged his youngest child away from his father in law to offer her to the girls. 

They baked cookies and talked about women in government. Chicken was basted as Sam's position on foreign energy sources was discussed. Pies were baked (and eaten) while musing over the players of the Democratic Party, and just who could go up against Haffley in the fall. There was nothing quite like running against a conservative, sitting VP (which accounted for the two Republican challengers whose numbers were in the single digits) who was able to run on eight years of lower crime rates, stable foreign relations, and a few other things likely to make the voters like him, unfortunately including the health care bill and improvements in education.

"This is Jamieson's last hurrah," Josh admitted quietly in frustration. The Senator had never quite gotten to do what he'd hoped after hiring Josh six years ago, and was intending to retire...

Assuming he didn't become the next President.

"He offer you anything yet?" Leo asked. 

"No."

"I would hope not," Jed noted. "He's not gonna make it."

"That's what they said about you," Sam remarked.

"Yeah, I'm with Sam. I think he's running to show the Republicans that he's still got some teeth, and to make way for some new blood in Senate leadership. Otherwise, we're never going to get done what we want to get done." 

"Aren't you out of a job?" Mallory inquired. 

"Pretty much, yeah, but I'm sure I'll find something." 

"And..." Donna prodded.

Josh quirked his eyebrows as he looked around. "I'll find something! I may go back to the House, or I may do my own stuff, but I'll find something."

"You already quit," Will concluded calmly. He was met with glowers and a faint nod from Josh.

"We've discussed longer-term plans. Jamieson knows he's not gonna win even if he gets the nomination. I'm with him until the end of January." 

"Huh," Jed remarked after a minute. "Any possible VP candidates?"

"As a matter of fact, there are," Josh admitted slowly.

"I have no problems bribing Margaret for this," Carol advised the room after a pause.

"My term's up in November," Andi observed calmly. Toby turned to look at her.

"I know you're running again," he said.

"Yeah," she replied. "So?"

"You can't do two campaigns at once."

"Which is exactly why I need to do two campaigns at once, Toby." Her eyes snapped fire. "We need to be reminded that women do, in fact, participate in the federal government, along with a thousand other things you approve of." 

Toby lifted one hand to cover his beard and continued to regard her, as Sam, puzzled, said, "I don't want to lose you in the Senate."

"I'm doing pretty good there, thanks," she returned, leaning back a little. "I'll be a VP candidate and lose that and go right back to my Senate offices, but people might be a little bit smarter."

Leo grinned approvingly. "Just make sure Haffley gets creamed with regard to the issues he's stealing from us."

"That will not be a problem, trust me."

Jamieson/Wyatt would lose, of course. But they were damned well going to raise some issues for their trouble.

* * *

"Aunt Zoey?" Al stepped around the corner, fidgeting with just her hands. It was early and the house was quiet, except for restless girls and a needy two-month-old and her mother. 

"Hey, Al," Zoey greeted in a near whisper as she settled Danielle back down. "Just a second..." She shut the lights off and came out, pulling the door to, and wasn't surprised to find Sam standing at the window, rubbing her neck nervously with her back to them.

"I-we-I... whatever... don't know who to ask," Al confessed, hanging her head.

"What is it?" Zoey moved to the nearest chair and sat down, tucking one foot underneath her, and regarded the pair, noting how uncomfortable they were. She patted the loveseat and waited while they hesitantly came over and sat down themselves. "Is this about your mom?"

"A little, yeah." Sam ducked her head. "It's... we... this was a bad idea."

Zoey's greenish eyes softened as she watched them fidget, clearly wanting to ask something and at the same time a little terrified of doing so. "It's okay, really."

There was another silence, as they bit their lips and tucked their hands under their legs and then folded them on their laps and poked their toes at the floor.

"Do men usually hurt women?" Zoey couldn't even tell which one of them had blurted the question.

"It happens more often than it should."

"But it's not common?" This was Sam, who knew the statistics perfectly well but needed a deeper reassurance, seeing shadows and pain too many places.

"What's this about?" Zoey asked them.

"We want to know, and we're not sure who to ask," Al mumbled down at her lap.

"What do you want to know?" She paused, eyes honed by years of practice, spotting a dark and personal worry in the way they sat, in the quietness of their faces. "Did something happen?" 

Heads shook vigorously, rich highlighted brown hair swinging. 

"Do..." Sam paused and tried again, obviously having trouble with the question and desperately wanting to know. "Do our uncles..." she stopped, unable to finish. Al swallowed and took her hand, then looked over at Zoey with desperate eyes. 

"Samantha and Abigail," she replied softly, "are you trying to ask if any of the men here in this house have ever hurt a woman?"

Scarlet cheeks and shamed nods told her the answer in full, and declared just how mixed their feelings were about this.

"None of them ever have or ever would," she said firmly, hearing a little of her mother's tone creep into the definite statement. "They respect and love women very much." 

"Don't men sometimes... get..." Al stopped and waved a hand around, turning even redder.

"Sometimes they can be frustrating," Zoey agreed dryly. "And sometimes they find us women frustrating, but none of these men would ever hurt a woman. Do you know why?" Two heads shook again. "Because of CJ, all of these men have a strong respect for women. Think about it. Think about the way your uncles look at the women they're married to, Sam and Al. You're probably still feeling weird and confused and upset even though most of your questions got answered, but it's right in front of you." Her chin tilted up a little bit, eyes softening and growing fond. "The way Charlie looks at me, as though I'm the greatest gift and possibly the smartest person in the world. You're both observant. What do you think?"

"Sometimes Uncle Josh asks Aunt Donna's permission before he rubs her arms." 

"Does he ask out loud?"

"No. It's the way he looks at her. It's his 'are you okay?' face." Al paused after this, seeming to realize that they'd both known the answer all along.

"Uncle Sam gets an expression of admiration when he looks at Aunt Mallory," Sam remarked.

"See? You already know," Zoey told them. "Do any of them know you're worried about this?"

"We kinda haven't been hugging them for a while," Al admitted, looking sheepish. "We went back to school and some of the guys are real jerks to some of the girls and we haven't been thinking about the whole picture too much, and..."

"It's okay," Zoey soothed again. "You should give each of them a really big hug today, though."

Sam smiled, the expression a little tilted and all the more attractive for it. "Yeah."

"Are you both going to be okay now?" she checked, peering at both of them.

"We never asked about the thing," Al murmured with a sigh.

"Oh," Sam answered, blushing a little. "Forgot." She saw Zoey's puzzled expression. "We wanted to look at our mother's briefings and stuff, but it kinda got lost, I guess."

"Because you'd have to ask Uncle Josh for it?" she asked mildly. 

"Yeah," Al muttered.

"And now you know everything's all right," she said brightly. "I hear people getting up, so if there's anything else, say it now."

"Do women usually propose?"

"Not generally," she answered, eyes sparkling, and laughed a little bit. "And I was a little surprised myself, and so was Charlie. Donna and Mallory loved it, and so did my mom. And it's why Charlie and I love each other the way we do. Don't ever doubt the love, okay?"

"Thank you, Aunt Zoey," they answered in concert, getting up to head in the direction of sleepy footsteps.

"You're welcome," she said softly after they'd gone, winding her fingers together on her lap and looking at the puzzle they seemed to make. Sometimes she wondered why they still held so much back when they knew it was all right to ask, but in a way, she was reassured they'd shown this side of their reaction to the news. Hopefully the hesitancy about men they'd just demonstrated wouldn't follow them into adulthood; they were in for a challenging enough time as it was.

* * *

Charlie gently wrapped his arms around Zoey from behind, lowering his head to bury it against her hair. She leaned back, just a little bit, and stroked his arm lightly with one hand.

Some days, that trust still astounded him. Zoey would smile up at him with that look of spunky intelligence he'd loved when he was still calling her Miss Bartlet, and from the sparkle in her eyes, he could tell she was thinking of gently teasing him for the thousandth time about that look of awed admiration on his own face. Sometimes she'd actually rib him a little; other days the look just melted into a smile and she rubbed his arm.

Anyway, the trust of leaning back against him still was something amazing, a feeling that, to echo what Josh had told him about something almost entirely different, never went away. He wondered if Josh and Sam felt the same way. CJ had changed something in the core of each of them, something that enabled them to still give Mallory and Donna and Zoey and the other women in their lives a hard time, but to also be so different than before. Zoey had told him once that he was looking at her, and touching her, as though she was a miracle, and he'd said she was, but even then, over ten years ago, they'd both known he hadn't just been referring to her. There were touches like spun glass, and silent permissions asked and given they never would have thought of otherwise.

And the stunning feeling of reaching for the stars, and the conflict of which stars they wanted. Charlie knew he could do more, knew he could follow along in a path similar to Josh's or endeavor to break some glass ceilings by going in Sam's footsteps. And for all that Zoey had resented the need for a detail during and after college, eight long years of shadows that had made her frustrated with the public eye, he knew she too could be the woman behind the candidate or the candidate herself. It was why she'd done so much with the Galileo Foundation; that and the fact that she was a known face and retained some popularity from her father's time as President. Zoey needed to know what she could do, just as he needed to do something else after the White House.

He wasn't entirely happy practicing law.

CJ had told him once, reaching past her own impending death and a crafted strategy to run, that he was going to hate running for things, because it was hard to campaign and govern at the same time. Oddly, it just made him wonder if he could do it anyway, if he could run and help at the same time. He suspected that with the right people, he could, and were he not married to Zoey, he might already be doing it.

They still got mail. If he ran for something, they'd be getting more.

This time of almost seven years was the longest Zoey had ever spent out of the public eye, the public life. Yet the fact that she used quite a bit of that time to go right back out there and raise awareness and money and everything else they needed...

She'd proposed to him. If she had a problem, she'd say so, possibly before he'd even told her what it was he was contemplating that might be a problem.

He took a deep breath and let it out against her hair, still holding her. Leaning back more, she turned her head a little.

"What're you thinking about?"

Same as always. "You get that psychic ability from your mother?" he asked dryly.

"Yep. So..."

"I was thinking about what I've been doing." 

She straightened a little, no longer leaning trustingly against him, and went absolutely still. Charlie kept his hands where they were, afraid to disrupt whatever balance was forming and changing.

"You miss the work in the White House." Her voice was light and vulnerable.

"Apart from the late-night trivia sessions and the 2 am wheels up times, yes, I guess I do."

The pause after she sighed and bent her head was so long he almost walked away.

"You miss helping to change the world."

"Yeah."

"Do you miss the partisan crap?"

He smiled, just a little. "Amazingly enough, I do. We could do so much for this country if we reached out a little bit more. I mean, I know each party's got its own power thing going on, but cooperation has to count for something, especially with the voters, right?"

"Yeah. Do you think we can sell that?"

"I don't know. I-" Then his brain caught up. "We?"

"Charlie, you keep doodling campaign stops for our Massachusetts district everywhere," she answered with a laugh.

"I should have known you're smarter than I am," he grumbled.

Finally, Zoey turned and looked up at him. "I was anticipating you. I like doing it and it's part of my job with Galileo, and I want to help kick the world's ass."

"Are you sure?" 

"What else would you do?"

"Behind the scenes. Do what Josh did for Dad, except possibly I'd be nicer. I'm not sure."

Zoey's laugh went through him again, and he smiled before she answered. "You're not even sure? Why do I have to be sure?"

"'Cause you're Zoey Bartlet, and you can be one of the most sure people I know."

She leaned her head against his chest for a minute. "You know, this is going to sound really corny, but I can be sure of other things because I know you're always going to be there. Here. With me." 

"You know that can change if I raise my profile," he said, not from fear for himself but as warning.

Her head lifted, eyes sparking in anger. "I do know, Charlie. It's been 13 years since Rosslyn and I still remember. I know, and it pisses me off. Maybe... maybe we can change it," she suggested, placing one hand on his chest, the sparks fading to thought and a little bit of hope.

It was the sort of glimmer that could set the world on its ear.

"It's going to be hard."

"Charlie, are you trying to talk me out of this, or are you trying to talk yourself out of it?"

"Neither. I'm just saying... it's going to be rough."

"You know what my dad would say about that."

"It's a reason to do something, not a reason to not do it. And we will do what is hard and what is right..." he quoted.

"And then you ask what's next," she smiled.

"So, Zoey Patricia Bartlet, what's next?"

"For what?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow, grinning, possibilities alight in her eyes.

* * *

Weeks later, Toby and Andrea stood on the steps of Josh and Donna's house, continuing the argument that had nearly started in the latter half of December.

"The country's not ready." 

"It damn well is ready, Toby, and if you could think about this objectively for one moment, you'd see the truth in that." 

"The mother of my children is seriously considering running for Vice President of the United States. That's all the objectivity I need!"

"This is not the time for you to become suddenly conservative."

"I'm not a Republican, nor am I conservative." The door opened, and Josh stood there looking at them. "I'm simply pointing out that this is a bad idea."

"And I'm pointing out to you that you're full of crap, Pokey." Andi paused and tilted one shoulder in Toby's direction as Josh stared at her. "Hi, Josh." 

"Would you like to come in?"

"Sure?" 

"It wasn't a secret candidacy, was it?" Carol asked with a laugh, coming forward. "We're leaving in just a minute, Toby."

"No, but I don't think anyone in this neighborhood knows who I am, or if they do know, they don't really care, so I think we're fine," she answered, raising an eyebrow at Toby.

"You're in Maryland," Josh pointed out. 

"We crossed into Maryland while we were arguing?" 

Toby rubbed one hand over his head. "Yes." 

"Toby..."

"Hey, Aunt Andi," Al said lightly as she came off the stairs. "Hi, Uncle Toby." 

"Hi, Al. Happy birthday."

"Thanks." She smiled and turned to Josh. "May we go with you?"

His forehead quirked, and he looked at Toby, who shrugged, which could have just been an indicator of being focused on something else. "Yeah, sure."

"Andrea, I agree there should be a woman as Vice President some day. There should be a woman as President some day. I'm just not sure it should be you. It's dangerous, and the campaign's going to be nasty, and..." 

"Because my House and Senate races were so clean?" she retorted. "The public's already decided how they feel about me, Toby; that's the beauty of being in the Senate. And I'm supposed to be meeting with Amy while you go over, so go over there so we can stop arguing in front of everyone."

"I don't want to see you hurt by this," he noted softly, but with an odd light in his eyes, a protective expression on his face she recognized. 

"Uncle Toby," young Sam suddenly interceded, "Why don't you want Aunt Andrea to run, really?"

Suddenly feeling awkward, he rubbed the back of his head a little. "There are certain-" he started. "There are things she's going to have to do, Sam, and some strategies that.." Toby paused, trailing off.

"Why?"

"They're risky. They're incredibly dangerous, and running for such high office under these circumstances will involve strategies and actions that will use Andrea." Toby's lips pursed in a distressed fashion.

"Is the reason you don't want her to run because my mom used herself and us?"

Someone had evidently given Samantha some pointers in the take-no-prisoners style of debate. Toby was actually slack-jawed, and Andi's head rotated until she could look the girl in the eye. _'There is nothing, no duty, no written statement, no oath, that approaches the level of dedication that CJ ultimately felt was required! And I am terrified that you will do the same thing.'_

Sam Seaborn went white to the lips, just as Donna had a few weeks ago. He'd hoped they hadn't grasped that so fully, so precisely... but what were the chances of that? What were, after all, the chances, in this odd extended family that didn't even know what following the odds meant? His namesake's voice had been so matter-of-fact, so even, her eyes so level that he knew she'd accepted it... and that Al had as well.

How, then, could both still have the light in their eyes that could set the world on fire? 

Was it really possible? He wondered, watching Toby struggle to find his voice, any voice, what it was they'd done by raising the girls as they had and answering their ultimate question as they had: if it had been an incredible gift to them both, and to everyone they met, or if it would turn into utter disaster down the road. He could see, in his mind's eye, both of them engaged in the dance of political art, delicate and passionate and dedicated and believing and strong and so very young.

Toby could see it too. Andi's face was still astonished.

"Yes," Toby admitted at last, very low, looking at the twins.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Toby, but that's a horrible reason," Al advised.

"And why is that?" he asked, regarding her thoughtfully.

"Our mother believed glass ceilings were made to be broken, and if she were here, I'm pretty sure she'd be mad at you."

"Really?" 

"Yeah."

"How do you know?"

"If we're as much like her as you keep saying," Sam replied, as if it were common sense, "then the fact that we're both upset with you because you're trying to protect Aunt Andi from something she can't and won't be protected from, and shouldn't be, because then that cancels out the whole breaking the glass ceiling thing, should count for something, right?"

"That was a run-on sentence," he returned absentmindedly.

"Sorry. But our point stands."

Donna came down the stairs and waited on the third step, sensing the tension at play, the way Sam and Al were unflinchingly meeting Toby's eyes, and the looks of amazement on everyone else's faces.

"I'm glad you're on our side," Toby finally conceded.

"Actually, we're on Uncle Sam's side," Al corrected. "But thanks."

"Why should you be on Uncle Sam's side specifically?"

"He's going to run for President. That's why Senator Jamieson's going to tank on purpose, so Uncle Sam can run."

So there it was. 

"How do you-" Josh started. Donna stepped all the way down the stairs now that the tension had faded, moving to stand next to him, fingers touching lightly.

"Uncle Josh, don't you think it's kind of silly to raise us in politics and then expect us to do something else, like study ballet?" Al wanted to know. "We're, like, total freaks in our classes and I think we passed high school Government & Politics in fifth grade or something, but people don't have to be a certain age to understand this stuff. They just usually don't see it at all until they're adults, because nobody wants their kid to be a politician." She grinned impishly with a trace of sarcasm. "But you've raised us with the ideals of politics, not just the dirty part. And that's why Aunt Andi's going to run, and lose, because the Vice President can get nasty enough to make the issues irrelevant."

There was a long, long pause.

"You're going to be the future," Sam told them softly. He was rewarded with two crooked smiles full of delight.

"After we get back, can we look at the stuff?" 

"There's a name for people like you," Toby observed.

"What's that, Uncle Toby?"

Carol answered first. "Game day players."

"I'm waiting to see if you live up to it, or if this is just because you don't know yet what can't be done," he continued.

Eyebrows raised in concert. "Thanks. I think."

"Yeah, you can look at the stuff," Josh said softly. "As long as you don't mind some company."

* * *

_I never thought my work on health care, of pushing for better coverage and better accountability, would pay off in my lifetime. All right, perhaps in my lifetime, but certainly not without a lobbying infrastructure to equal that of the insurance industry itself, and even then, it would have been a long, nasty battle. I still have no idea what happened, except that certain members of Congress suddenly came to their senses and realized they could really do something for their constituents, for all of them. Everyone needs health care, and now everyone has it, and accountability has been raised and people are more aware of their rights. It's the most incredible thing I've ever seen._ -William Bailey

_They're saying 'Galileo' right, and they're saying other words right too. They're saying 'election reform' and 'health care' and 'education' and 'environmental protection' right; they're saying it like it matters. My old staff would never let me hear the end of it, but I don't know what pleases me more: that millions of Americans are saying 'Galileo' right, or that they're saying those other things right. Galileo stands for the issues we started to raise and will continue to raise. And so... we will continue, as we have. It's a general election year, and I take the greatest comfort in knowing that people I know and trust are working to guarantee it will not be a choice between the lesser of who cares, as Leo puts it._ -Josiah Bartlet

_Over twelve years ago I sat in CJ Cregg's office and told her that she could send people to me if they were pissed at her for doing what she did. It never occurred to me that would extend to sending me people that weren't pissed at me, people that would truly help. I don't know what's happening, but somehow, in this conservative time, we're getting the message across that it's more than okay for women to be leaders. Is it stressful on the country as a whole? Absolutely it is, and I'm proud to be a part of it, because it's a great thing for the people who help make up the country._ -Amy Gardner

_I suppose you never know what challenges you can take on until you're called to take them. Or, as President Bartlet said, our capacity may well be limitless. Fifteen years ago I was the assistant to the Press Secretary to a newly sworn-in liberal President, and I never would have dreamed of being where I am today, of being able to do the things I do or to have faced the challenges and loss that I have. I had no idea I could do these things, or help Sam craft his campaign, until I was asked to... and I hope I can continue. Even the fact that I say I'm hoping something is a sign of how much certain things have changed, and may change in the future._ -Carol Fitzpatrick

_I've never been able to say what compelled me to work on that bill with Andrea Wyatt ten years ago. I'm glad I did, because whatever it was, whether it was the nature of the bill or what we wanted to name it, there was a chord struck in the President and his staff, and these talented, powerful people who have a strong voice in their party have continued to be open to bipartisan efforts to this day. Maybe that really is the solution; sometimes I can convince other Republicans of that, and more often I can't, but the times I've worked with Democrats, I mean really worked with them, there's been this feeling of fulfillment. I worry sometimes that there's going to be backlash that'll split America apart because we're going against the polarized sides, but in the meantime, I'm going to keep doing this. I don't care if it annoys the RNC; the people in my district really like it._ -Benjamin Anders

_These kids are amazing. I still can't get over them. How can they have this light in their eyes after so long? How on earth can anyone possibly retain the courage of their convictions at this level in politics? Did Jed and I do this? Did we do or say something that made these young people believe that good things could still be done, that good people could get elected, and that someday, that wouldn't be the exception but rather the rule? I would have thought we were all too exhausted and broken down after eight years in the White House, but from somewhere, this team has grown and changed and still retained what made them special in the first place. There's nothing I want to see more than the show that's going to be coming up in a little while._ -Leo McGarry

_I don't get these people. I just don't. Politics is supposed to be crappy. Where do these people get off being so damn idealistic and trying to pass real bills? Whoever they are, they better not leave, because they're contagious. Now I think things can get done, too, and I'm proud to say I'm a DC politician and a member of Congress, not just proud in a political sense to say the good people of New York keep sending me here every two years. Is this what a revolution feels like? Somebody get me a front row seat._ -Neil Dwyer

_I got something more from Galileo than my classmates. Maybe some kind of what-if drop-kicked itself into my life, and I was ready for it anyway and decided to pick it up. Maybe college will be too much for me, and maybe I'll turn out to be one of the millions of high school graduates who really isn't destined to get a college degree. I mean, not all of us are meant to. But at least now I know that, and I know I've got a fair chance, and I intend to learn what I can. It's amazing how much I like communicating._ -Leandra Hudson

_You know what? It's been six years and I'm still just writing, except for the times I'm speaking in front of half-drunk people who don't care or kids who don't know how to care. I write and I write and I write, and I wonder when I got caught up in this business of changing the world. Please don't tell Sam I've already written his Inaugural address and his first State of the Union._ -Toby Ziegler

_The political game of art and debate and spin is the same as everything else; it's just more public. Whether or not it's full of crap is up to us. I'm descended somehow or another from one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. I think I know what I'm talking about when I say it's up to the people in politics to make it one way or another._ -Anne Westin

_I'm almost glad I'm out of the reporting business and into the business of consulting people on what level of idiot they're going to make themselves look like with their next move. Almost. Sam's discussed things with me, and it'd be a hell of a campaign to cover for a paper. I don't think anyone has ever seen the like of what's going to be discussed, and I'm looking forward to it._ -Daniel Concannon

_It's not that I don't understand Toby's reasons for not wanting me to run; I do. They're just stupid. Of course this is going to be hard on Huck and Claudia. It's not supposed to be easy; a national campaign never is. But did it ever occur to him that this is for our children, everyone's children, as much as it is to lend some teeth to the Democratic agenda? I don't suppose it has. But this man I want to kick in the teeth as much as I want to kiss him should know all about that. He should even know why I want to address the issues as much as I want to tell Haffley where he can put his conservative agenda. It's all Sam Seaborn's fault, dammit. But he went and did that whole rescue thing a few years ago, so I suppose we're even._ -Andrea Wyatt 

_When did I decide I could help light the world on fire? Was it when Leo told me to go to Nashua, or was it when I listened to Jed Bartlet speak for the first time? Somewhere in the business of governing, I lost it in the first time, and then I got it back, and the irony of getting it back is that I know the person who gave it back to me was fine with the sacrifice it took, even though it was in the midst of the ultimate in the political situation you can't possibly be idealistic in. That came out pretty mangled, but really wanting to do the right thing ago and knowing I could do it was a tremendous gift. As these last years have been. I don't want to work for the DNC; they're not the right place for me. I'm going to do something, though. Something I never would have thought of fifteen years ago._ -Joshua Lyman

_These past seven years working for the Women's Leadership Coalition have been well and truly amazing. I've seen the worst reasons for women to not lead, and I've seen the fight against those, against stereotyping and exploitation and plain old sexism. It's astonishing what we've tried to do, and even though sometimes I've felt like we're taking three steps back for every step forward, it's one of the best things I've ever done, and I couldn't ask for a better job. No, actually, I could. This is the most challenging and amazing work I can see myself doing when I'm not doing that other job, though._ -Donnatella Moss

_I'm going to have to ask Sam sometime if he was feeling this way when Josh came to Gage Whitney. This feeling, for all that I keep taking lost causes and pro bono and the person that really needs their story told as cases and somehow making them into a real story, one to raise awareness, that I can and should be doing something better. Josh never told me that not only does the feeling never go away, it's also capable of pulling you back. I never got enough sleep and there were disasters and I lost a friend and some days I felt like I barely had time to breathe or eat, but I've seen what taking on the world means and I can't wait to try it again. I don't know what that says about me, but I cannot wait._ -Charles Young

_The purpose of Galileo was to start a revolution from the inside, from what politicians call the grassroots level. The issues in this country are too big to fix from the top down; they have to start somewhere with ordinary citizens, and while we'll never be exactly ordinary, these past several years are the closest we're ever going to get. And now we've helped raise the level of public debate, and I'm glad of that, because it's been simultaneously lowered in other areas, like foreign relations. But I told Charlie I was okay with it and I would help him get this idea of debating instead of polarizing across, and I will. And if this works... well, I'm not sure the country is ready to have Andrea Wyatt debating the issues and then have Mallory and I jump up and down on the issues along with everyone else. It'll be a sight to see._ -Zoey Bartlet

_I'm going to get creamed. I'm absolutely going to get creamed. You know why? We tempted the wrath of the whatever from high atop the thing. But if I'm going to get creamed, and seeing what's happening to Andi and Senator Jamieson, I don't see how it's going to be any better in four years, I'm going to do it all out. I'm going to talk about everything that hasn't been talked about and needs to be talked about, and then I'm going to inform the public on a level they've never seen before on that and everything else. If I lose, I'm going to leave a more intelligent public, and just the fact that I still believe that's all really possible is a sign I'm completely crazy. Okay, I'm not going to lose. I've known for twelve years how to win this thing. I hope you're right._ -Samuel Seaborn

_You've got something the rest of us don't, Sam. You have the ability to present an agenda, to force it, and to come up with it in the first place. I don't know where you get it from or how you've kept it this long, but you've got the belief and determination and time to see through some truly good things. You can speak from your heart in someone else's words the way the President can, and you can craft those words, and put a public face on why those words are good, and you can go pull the inside political plays to bring them to fruitition. You're all of us, Sam, and to have you use all those things would be a tremendous gift to everyone. It's not going to be easy; when have we ever done anything easy? What it will be is a sight to see, truly a sight to see. And you may not make it. Something may change or it just might not work out. Just don't not do it because of what it will cost you; don't not do it only if you really believe you shouldn't. But knowing you, you'll do it anyway, if you keep your belief long enough. I don't trust you to run and win for anything, Sam. I trust you to run for anything and believe in the right things. And someday there's gonna be a Seaborn for America poster and you're going to look at it and say 'look what happened'._ -Claudia Jean Cregg, November 2001


	34. No, I Didn't Reveal My Secret Identity

_No, I Didn't Reveal My Secret Identity_

"Turn on the television."

"Sam?" 

"Turn on the damn TV, Josh!"

He reached over and hit the remote, switching it to C-SPAN.

"The hell?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." There was a little static on the phone line, but Sam sounded both pissed off and disappointed.

"No kidding." A long sigh on the other end of the phone line. "When did you find out about this?"

"When Carol came into my office two minutes ago and turned my TV on."

"He didn't consult anyone in Congress at all?" Josh almost screeched. 

"Nope."

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Nothing, for now. I can find out who was consulted, if anyone, but I don't think it'll do much good. Technically, it's a police action, which makes the Senate and the House pretty helpless." 

"I still have some contacts in the House-" Josh started.

He could practically hear the gentle smile. "So do I, Josh."

"Sam, seriously, this is the biggest thing since... I don't even know. Sending troops into five different countries? That's on about the same level as suddenly invading England."

"Well, no, not exactly, because England doesn't have oil reserves," Sam returned. "They also don't have the world's highest concentrations of terrorist cells." 

"Is there any way to get you on an intelligence committee in the next, you know, two days?"

"Not really," Sam snorted. "Listen, I think Mallory and perhaps half the Democratic Women's Caucus is on line two, Josh. I've gotta go."

"Yeah." Josh slowly put the phone down, then rotated through the channels. Retaliation was almost certain. Higher security around the entire DC area. More guards. More time. More threats... and the possibility that he or one of his friends would open a package, step onto a bus, into a restaurant, walk along the street, and be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Caught by a change in coverage, he stopped and turned up the volume.

"-there may be some early hope that things will change for those not well off in these countries, but according to the plan devised by the newly sworn-in President Haffley and his senior advisers, all countries will simply go under stricter rule with curfews and the like, with the previously established governments free to go about their usual business..."

"Hi," Donna suddenly said from behind him. Josh jumped a little and then turned.

"Hey," he replied softly. "You're home early."

"Yeah, they sent all of us home early today to get some rest. We'll be working long days for the next week," she answered quietly, eyes a little red.

"You doing okay?"

"It's not right, Josh!"

"Yeah, I know." He turned back to the screen, watching tanks roll in, people lining up... 

Donna reached down and turned the TV off. "This goes against everything," she declared, voice shaking.

"Come here." Josh took her hand and pulled her around to sit in his lap. "It's going to be okay."

"Don't say that." She paused and took a breath. "I always hoped that if we ever invaded those countries, and yes, I know it's being called a police action, that we'd be doing it to help them out, to establish democracy or to say that women in all countries should have certain basic rights. But this..."

"Foreign relations have been deteriorating for the last six years," he reminded. "The bombing in Israel, the killing of Shareef... and the way the impending energy crisis has been ignored. From how fast and large this action is, I'd say we've got even less oil than I thought we did."

"Josh..."

"Donna, we don't have a plan for wartime," he said abruptly.

"It might not last that long..." she started hesitantly. He shook his head.

"No. This is gonna last a while. I know it's March of 2015 and the convention's not for another 40 months, but we don't have anything for this."

"You'll figure something out."

"Yeah." He leaned back and sighed. Donna hit him in the shoulder. "Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"Focusing on one issue," she retorted.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Sam and Al are teenagers."

"Yes," she replied.

"You know what we're going to be talking about at dinner tonight?"

"Sam and Al's view on the just-initiated police action, and everything else political under the sun."

"They're not old enough to vote." 

"Josh, people waiting until they're old enough to vote before they take an interest in politics is one of the problems with this country."

"Okay."

* * *

"How goes it?" Jed asked, pulling him into a hug.

Josh gave him a small smile in return. "It could be worse."

"Pessimist. You have to leave that at the door, you know."

"Yeah." Josh stepped in, Sam right after him, and pulled off his coat. "I was right," he announced smugly.

Donna glanced over from where she was helping Josiah take off his boots. "Shut up." Sam smirked, and she glowered at him. "Shut _up_!"

"Donna's going to be right in the end, you know," Bartlet admonished the pair before him. "There may no longer be tens of thousands of troops over there, but the consequences will last for decades. I don't know what he was thinking."

"He was thinking we needed more oil and he didn't want to pay attention to the energy reform bill," Josh answered, frustrated. "But hopefully nothing else really weird will happen in the next couple of years." 

"What're the chances of that?" Sam grumbled. 

"About the same as the chances of you sleeping anywhere but your office if you don't move over right now," Mallory announced from behind him. Sam jumped forward, almost tripping on the rug. "Also, I'll need your solemn word that you had nothing to do with the lack of resolution coming out of the foreign relations committee, Samuel. Or with the funding going to these countries..." 

"Whoa, whoa." Sam held up his hands. "You know I'd never do such a thing, and would you like help with the kids?" Mal sighed, deflating just a little bit.

"I'm sorry, Sam. It's just that it would be nice if once in a while this country actually practiced what it preached. Violence against women has gone up in those countries in the last nine months, did you know that? And the way too many people are being forced to live is-" She stopped as Sam gently cupped her face with one hand and kissed her. 

"I do know," he said gently, hand running back to her ear, then her hair, and down to her back. "I do know, Mallory."

"Sorry," she replied, her own hand reaching up to trace the imperfect outline of Sam's right ear. She sighed deeply. "It's really ticking me off."

"I can tell."

"Hey, Mal." Donna stood. "Need any help with anything?"

"No, thanks. Actually, I'll need help with a great deal of things."

"Right." Donna nodded calmly. "Just let me know."

"I detect an ambush," Jed contributed.

"Me too," Josh added. Donna turned a smile on him.

"I'm glad our years of marriage have improved your sense of self-preservation in these matters."

"Be careful," the former President put in.

"Yeah," Josh answered, eyeing his wife.

"We're going to be very busy," Donna answered.

"It's so quiet in here," Abbey noted as she came into the room. "Jed, sit down before you fall down; you know you shouldn't be standing up so much. Did you forget to bring all of the children with you?"

"For reasons not quite clear to me, Toby volunteered to drive the four oldest ones up," Josh answered. "And the rest of them are... somewhere around here. Donna, we brought Noah and Joann, right?" 

"Snowmen," she answered calmly.

"There's snow?"

"Were you looking at anything on the way here?"

"I was thinking." Donna just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"They'll be here soon, Abbey," she said with a laugh.

"And every year, my house gets turned into a zoo," Jed pretended to mourn. "Twelve kids, from two to thirteen years. We must be insane, Abigail."

"It took you until the ninth one of these things to figure that out?" 

"Yeah."

* * *

"Congress looks good on you."

Charlie turned. "Thanks. Some people have been saying I look good on it, but..."

"What took you so long?" Josh flopped down on the couch and waved an arm at the other man.

"There were some cases I needed to finish in the other years, and also there wasn't an opening. I would have been running against the incumbent of my own party, unless I wanted to establish residency in another district, and we weren't too keen on that."

"Miss the law firm?"

"Sometimes. Just like I miss staying up until 1 am listening to the history of Russian opera."

Josh laughed. "Seriously, you don't miss it at all?"

"I do, a little. The firm was old and respected, enough so to give me a good reputation without being so set in their ways that I couldn't take on some interesting clients."

"Yeah. I personally would like to thank you for the Robertson case." 

"People need to take responsibility," Charlie responded. "I'm just glad that one of those people had the courage to come forward, or who knows how much pollution would be spread across the state by now?"

"Probably too much." They sat in silence for a little while. "You know, you're only a little bit younger than I was when Leo told me to go to Nashua." Charlie glanced over at him with his 'what was the point of that?' expression on. "It just now occurred to me, that's all. Do you know that you've spent almost half your life in something politically related, Charlie?"

"Yep." He sighed and leaned back. "The only real problem I have with Congress so far is that it means I can't really do anything related to Galileo."

"Well, in some ways there's not as much to do as there was when we started it eight years ago, you know."

"And in some ways there's more. The clock is going to start running out on the health care bill, and in some areas the changes to education have been so gradual as to be nearly nonexistent. And while I don't in any way dispute the validity of those issues, Josh, there are a whole lot more out there where those came from."

"What would you pick next?" 

Charlie paused in thought. "Treatment versus enforcement. Immigration. Crime. Energy. Environment."

"That's five things, Charlie."

"Yeah, so?" 

"Galileo's influence is a little, you know, smaller than that."

"Josh, what do you think would happen if we were to somehow find another ten people as crazy as we are in some other states and start up mini-Galileos?"

"I think it would turn out fantastic in the long run, and that in the short term, people would feel pretty yanked around. Wait a second." 

"Yeah."

"No."

"Yeah." 

"Zoey know about this?"

"Does Zoey know about this?" Charlie repeated. "Josh, she was the one who came up with the idea. She's found movers and shakers on both sides of the aisle and then some, she's told them how to structure it, and she's made sure they really mean it. And she's taught them how to say it right. Does she know about it? Josh, my wife is ready and willing to kick the world's ass, and the only reason she's only kicking half of it right now is that she's just one woman." 

"She got all the Bartlet genes?"

"Yeah, I think they mutated or something. Even Jed was a little surprised by this."

"Yeah, Leo's been giving Mallory some pretty weird looks too."

"What's she on?"

"Women's issues, women's leadership, international human rights and treatment of women, wildlife preservation, and AIDS."

"I never would have thought that list wouldn't include education." 

"Education's woven into all of them, but Galileo's done a lot of what Mallory would have gone after."

"Wildlife preservation?" Charlie asked after a moment.

"Ties into the environment thing, and also some of those animals are pretty damn cute. She likes the whole picture."

"Wow." He shook his head and sat still for a moment. "Did you ever think you'd be doing this?" he asked Josh.

"Which part of this?"

"Twenty years ago, before the 1998 election was even gearing up, did you ever think, in your wildest dreams, that you would still be doing something as idealistic as making sure everyone in this country can read, count, and construct a sentence?"

Josh looked at him sideways. "No," he answered thoughtfully. "I couldn't have predicted this might happen until a couple of very strange things happened." 

"Yeah."

"You gonna help with the thing?" he asked Charlie after a minute.

"Sam's first... what are we calling it?"

"The thing. Or perhaps a bagel."

"You better be bringing lots of backup, or the Sisterhood will be running this before it's even started," Charlie suggested.

"As long as we get around to the stuff we want to get around to, that's fine," Josh shrugged.

"Josh, you could end up with Donna, Mallory, Zoey, Andi, Sam, Al, and possibly Claudia running a Presidential campaign."

"As long as they know what they're doing," he shrugged again.

"You feeling all right?" 

"Yeah. I feel about your age, Charlie. This is going to be the greatest thing in American politics in over sixty years." Josh stood up. "Let's go."

"All right."

* * *

"Did you get everything?" Toby asked as soon as they came through the door.

Huck put one hand to the side of his head in a gesture almost identical to his father's. "Did we get everything?" He turned to his companions. "Did we get everything, you guys?"

"I think the stores all had one of each item left," Claudia replied, shifting the bag from one hand to the other and turning to her cousins in spirit.

"No, we cleared one of the stores all the way out. Did you see the look the clerk gave us?" Al answered, flipping her hair back as she chuckled.

"Yes, every store with office supplies in a fifteen-mile radius has almost no office supplies left, except I think some staples... also glue guns..." Sam picked up the thread with a smirk.

Toby rocked back and forth a little bit as he regarded them briefly before turning his gaze to the supervising adult. "Are they mocking me?" he asked quietly. 

Margaret looked at the four children one by one before she turned back to Toby. "Well... yes. I think they are." 

"Huh."

"I told them you mocked me while we were in the White House."

"And that was the incentive?" Toby inquired.

"No, I think the incentive was that you asked them if they got everything when they very clearly did."

"Imagine that." Toby turned back to the kids. "Okay, you clearly got what I asked you to get, and I... appreciate that."

"You want us to stop mocking you?" Claudia asked.

He aimed a finger at her. "That would be good."

"Can we, you know, come in and put all this stuff down?" Sam wanted to know. "I'm carrying all the notebooks ever produced in the history of the universe."

"Hyperbole," Toby accused, pointing at her. "I will not tolerate hyperbole."

"Sorry, Uncle Toby," she giggled, coming in and setting the bags down. "But there really are a lot."

"Did anyone ask you what you were doing?" Josh asked, coming into the room.

Al and Huck moaned in unison, hands over their faces.

"What happened?" Donna demanded, stepping off the stairs. "Are you guys okay?"

"What's going on?" Josh questioned. The two peeked at him from behind their hands, then shook their heads and moaned softly again.

"I think there may have been a complication they didn't tell me about," Margaret offered, turning back to them.

Sam came in. "Did they get everything?"

"Yes!" Toby almost shouted. 

"Okay. What's wrong, then?"

Sam and Claudia started giggling.

"Okay, what's the joke?"

Al and Huck deposited their own bags before they answered Donna. "We kept getting complimented on our dedication to school."

"One cashier thought we were doing a senior extra credit project," Huck gasped out through his own laughter. "I think that was Al, though."

"Yeah, I'm older than you. But it was still funny."

"So our cover isn't blown?" Josh pleaded.

"No, Uncle Josh, we didn't reveal our secret identity," Sam retorted before collapsing into giggles again. 

He slowly rotated to his best friend. "How do they know about that?"

Sam quirked one eyebrow at Josh. "They've helped out with my campaigns, Josh; they know about Laurie." 

"And you told them about the conversation in my office?" 

"As a lead-in to never doing anything stupid without getting the approval of the Press Secretary first, yes, I did, Josh." 

"We've memorized the secret plan to fight inflation," Al mock-threatened with a grin. Josh threw up his hands.

"Besieged. I'm besieged. Let's get started."

"All right." Al stepped forward to pick up one of the bags again.

"I've got it," Donna volunteered, stepping forward and shooting Margaret a quick look.

"What are we doing?" Huck queried.

Sam moved forward. "You're not too old to be bribed with ice cream, are you?"

"No..." his namesake sighed, following him and rolling her eyes at her companions.

"Uncle Sam..." Claudia said despairingly several minutes later, plunging her spoon into the mound of chunky fudge before her. "We're not helping?"

"No." He licked off the last spoon and placed it in the sink.

"I thought we already argued about this," Al tried. "No, wait... that was with Uncle Josh and Uncle Toby."

"Argued about what?"

"Being involved with politics," Sam answered, chin on her fist. "You know what Uncle Toby and Aunt Carol called us? Game day players."

"And Uncle Toby said that he was waiting to see if it was for real, or just because we didn't know what couldn't be done yet," Al continued. "We're fourteen; do you think we don't know how ridiculous this could look, Uncle Sam?"

"Guys..." he sighed. "This is the White House we're looking at; a Presidential campaign that's going to address some incredibly tough issues and has the potential to contain more nasty ads than have been in all my previous campaigns combined. Putting you in the line of fire wouldn't be fair to you or to us, because we'd be too busy protecting you from the wackos out there."

"The same way Mom kept Huck and I away from her VP campaign?" Claudia asked.

"She didn't."

"That's exactly my point, Uncle Sam." 

"And see how mouthy it made you?"

"My parents are Andrea Wyatt and Toby Ziegler. I think I was going to be mouthy anyway," she replied with a smile.

"Okay, that's a fair point."

"And?" Sam prompted. 

"The four of you know a lot about politics, a lot about strategy, about the players and issues," he said softly, leaning on a counter. "That's why we're counting on you to pick up where we leave off. And it's why we don't want you burned out by an arduous Presidential campaign."

"Uncle Sam..." Al said, placing her head in her hands. "We survived knowing that we were born because of a political strategy to get Grandpa Jed a second term, and that our mother was raped. If that didn't burn us out, why would this? I don't want to sound arrogant, but we're smart, we're young, we know what we're doing, we're cute, we encourage other young people to become involved... and since you still look pretty young, that's a good thing for you."

"Dad thinks children aren't trusted with enough responsibility when they're young, and that's why we're failing as a society," Huck put in suddenly, turning his attention away from his own bowl of ice cream. 

"The four of you are entirely too smart."

They just waited, gazing at him. He looked back at them, debating and hesitating on a silent agreement. What would be worse?

"It's going to disrupt your school schedules," he attempted.

"Sam and Al are practically juniors, and we went through this already," Claudia replied quietly, fixing her gaze on him. He hesitated and then nodded, conceding another point.

"You raised us to believe," Al noted, voice trembling a little. "You raised us to believe in the impossible, and what was right and what was hard and what must be done, and then you put us through the fire by telling us the truth when we asked, and we made it. And we still believe. We don't care if know no one knows, if we're back in some office typing memos, just as long as we're a part of it." 

Sam's gaze suddenly rested on Samantha, who gazed back up at him quietly. It was times like this when he wondered if they were really identical, when Al's eyes snapped bright blue fire and she unleashed all the eloquent speech she'd been taught by some of the best minds in the country, while Samantha's eyes turned a dusky, vulnerable blue and she communicated in utter silence, letting her body language alone carry her message.

So he was surprised when she suddenly spoke, in a low, quiet voice. "You can speak from your heart in someone else's words the way the President can," and here he jumped, staring at her in wide-eyed shock as Huck and Claudia turned to her, but she continued, "and you can craft those words, and put a public face on why those words are good, and you can go pull the inside political plays to bring them to fruitition. You're all of us, Sam, and to have you use all those things would be a tremendous gift to everyone. It's not going to be easy; when have we ever done anything easy? What it will be is a sight to see, truly a sight to see."

Her inflections were exactly like CJ's, even though he'd never heard those particular words spoken aloud before.

Her voice was filled with a beautiful force.

Sam didn't think he could breathe.

A delicate strand of belief ran through the room, and Al clasped her hands, eyes shining. "And someday there's gonna be a Seaborn for America poster..."

His lips parted, as Huck and Claudia straightened and stood. They'd never heard those words before, either, but they, too, knew the sides of politics.

"How did you know about that?" he managed at last.

"She left stuff for us, too," Sam replied quietly.

"But... that was..." his breath caught again, against memory and belief and promise.

"She told us, if we hadn't lost it when we asked the question, and said we had to know the truth there, to go to Aunt Carol, because she'd know if we were really ready to know it," Al answered.

"We asked Aunt Carol for the last tape on our birthday," Sam noted. "She warned us that it was marked for when we were fifteen or sixteen, but that our mother left it up to her judgment."

Claudia and Al's gazes met quietly. 

"And?" Sam prompted.

"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth..." Sam said softly. "How can you ask us to not continue that belief she had in you, Uncle Sam? We're not old enough to vote."

"What is it?" he pressed quietly, watching Huck write with his index finger, eyes closed.

"Sixty-five percent of those polled would have believed there was an affair between the two of you had she not carried us to term," Sam replied. Devastatingly. Quietly. Flatly, in the same delicate tone she had used to recite information on rape and battery after finding out about her mother.

"Oh, my God," Sam whispered. "Oh, God... you know..."

The Cregg twins were silent.

"Uncle Sam," Claudia started. He turned to her. "We love you very much. But sometimes, you have to know the whole truth before you can commit to something, because only then do you know what you're really believing in. And Sam and Al told us about this last month when they came over to Dad's."

"Huck, look at me." The boy opened his eyes and looked up. Sam looked around at each of them in turn, and slowly nodded. "Come here." Obediently, they came up to him, and Sam wrapped all four in a hug, kissing each of them in turn. "I don't know how you do it, but you've convinced me." 

Grins broke out, and he led them into the large living room. 

Josh and Toby stood.

"You convinced him." Josh noted. His best friend immediately pointed an accusing finger at him.

"You were in cahoots with these four!"

"Sam, you're the most idealistic of all of us. If they couldn't show you this was the right thing, a good thing, then this was doomed from the start."

"Let's start," Toby half-growled, glancing approvingly at his two children. "I would really like to get out of here before the end of the month."

Donna's laughter chimed as she stood. "I'll be right back." The four kids tucked themselves onto a loveseat, leaving the comfortable chairs around the low table for the adults. As Donna came back in, the door chimed, and Josh got up, muttering a quick apology at his mentors and stand-in fathers.

"We're not late, are we?" Carol asked, stepping in.

"Nah, Sam and the kids were arguing." Josh stood back to let her come through, greeting Amy and Andi. Carol's gaze swung to the four, and she slowly nodded. 

"Oh? And what were they arguing about?" Andi asked, shrugging out of her light coat.

"Hi, Mom," Claudia waved casually. Her mother just lifted her eyebrows.

"The right to participate in the democratic process," Huck responded. 

"Ah, good." She turned to Toby. "I detect your influence, Pokey."

"Yeah," he answered levelly before looking around with annoyance. "There are far too many people in here."

"And we're not all even here yet, Toby," Jed retorted cheerfully. As if on cue, the back door thudded open, followed shortly by Mallory, Charlie, and Zoey.

Sam stood and rotated in place, apparently counting. "Jed, Leo, Josh, Toby, Donna, Carol, Charlie, Mallory, Zoey, Amy, Andi, and the kids. Is that it?"

"I'm not covering the takeout bill," Charlie declared. Zoey thumped him on the arm. "Ow. And I'm not. There's sixteen people here."

"Yeah, but two of us can't have bad food," Jed told him from the other side of the table.

"Assuming we even remember to stop and eat, we're gonna be splitting it," Josh told them. "So. This is the thing. How do we start?"

"Give me a notebook," Toby demanded. The others just looked at him. "Give me something to write on."

Carol tossed a notebook at him. "And what're you going to be doing?" Sam asked.

Toby had already shifted into his classic writing position and didn't bother to look up. "I'm going to sit here and craft your message while the rest of you argue until dinnertime."

"We appreciate the vote of confidence, Toby."

"I know." 

"Where do we start?"

"Issues." 

"Give me one of those notebooks."

"At least you know you'll start with the support of the WLC, Sam." 

"I appreciate that, Amy. Between you, Donna, and Mallory, I know I have plenty of support from women."

"And besides that."

"Well, you've never been in the military, but that's becoming more and more common."

"Let's leave that for a while, okay?"

"You can leave it until a week before the election," Al recommended.

Twelve people looked over at her for a shocked moment.

"What? You can, I mean Uncle Sam can... whatever. It's not a big issue." 

"Go outside, turn around three times, and spit," Josh directed.

"What'd I do?"

"All of you," Charlie supported.

"Outside," Donna emphasized.

"All four of us?" Claudia sighed. 

"Yeah!"

"Go outside," Sam told them.

They looked at each other.

"You'd better go outside, you guys," Andi suggested, looking around the table. 

"But what did-"

"Outside. Turn around three times, and spit," Carol ordered.

"Just go," Zoey told them. "It's easier."

"You didn't want to warn them?" Mallory asked the room at large.

"Nope," Josh answered. "Seriously. Go outside, turn around three times, and spit."

"And curse," Toby contributed, still writing.

"You are not telling my children to curse," Andi retorted.

"They're my kids too." 

"And they're not learning how to curse yet, Toby!" 

"Yeah, don't curse, and you can use the back. But do it all, do it now."

Eight eyes rolled, and the four stood up and trooped out back.

"Will you please tell us what we did now?" Al requested as she sat back down.

"No tempting fate," Donna and Carol responded in unison.

"No springing new things on us," Sam retorted with an eye-roll. 

"Okay," Josh sighed. "Here's how it is. You don't ever, ever do or say anything to imply winning. At all. That's tempting fate."

"So... no references to..." 

"Convention, election night, the works."

"Now you have to go outside," Sam told his friend with a small smirk. 

"It doesn't count when it's just an example, Sam." 

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm not the one that tempted fate in front of Toby back on Election Night 2002."

"Fine."

"So how can we actually help?" Claudia wanted to know.

"Jump in when you see something you know," Josh directed.

They exchanged glances, mildly frustrated. After a couple of minutes, Sam stood.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?"

"Can we please have some of the markers and posterboard stuff we got earlier?"

"Sure." Donna turned and dug into the bag, tossing the writing materials to them as Zoey tugged out several pieces of the large, sturdy, and somewhat flexible sheets. 

"Need some scissors?" she offered.

Al's mouth quirked. "Maybe. Yes."

"Here." 

"Thanks." They split the posterboard into two piles on the loveseat and crouched in front of it, examining the smooth blankness.

"Hmm..." Al tilted her head a little. 

"Let's do this."

"Which is red and which is blue?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, red is associated with blood and violence, so do we want the 'Seaborn' or 'America' to be red?"

"Do it both ways?"

"You gonna do one of these?"

"Maybe." 

"Fine."

"Seaborn should be blue. Sea, blue, born in America, liberty..."

"Where do you come up with that stuff?"

A shrug. "I have no idea. Can you take the marker so I can straighten up or something?" 

"Sure. Sorry." Samantha took the blue marker and uncapped it, examining it for a second before shrugging it and placing the tip lightly to the surface of the poster.

"We should have a flag across that when it's printed," Al suggested. 

"Yeah. What's your thing?"

"I'm thinking."

"I can see that." Al's fingers had been constantly tracing over her own posterboard for the past couple of minutes.

Sam's elegant writing had formed the 'Seaborn', and she went back, thickening the letters a little.

"Black?" 

"To outline the 'for', yeah. Thanks." A thin line sketched out the simple word. So simple... three little letters, the middle word in a three-word call to a better kind of politics.

Jed Bartlet had Leo McGarry and a napkin.

Sam Seaborn would have four adolescents with markers and posterboard.

"There..." Sam breathed, finishing off the tail of the 'a' and tilting her head. "I'm not totally happy with it..."

"You're not thinking of alternating colors, are you?" Claudia asked.

"No." 

"Good, 'cause that would look..."

"Immature?" 

"I was going to say amateur."

"Same thing." Sam turned her gaze to her sister's work. It was geometric and intertwined, and like 'Seaborn for America', a little simple, a call back to something else. 'Uncle Sam for President'... with 'President' in the middle, horizontal, and 'Uncle' spelled out vertically, sharing the 'e' with the first one in 'President', then 'Sam' next to it, starting from the 's', and 'for' hovering above the second half of 'President'.

"I blame our history textbooks," Al defended. "And I don't know whether 'for' looks better horizontally or vertically." She turned a little for a moment, listening to the conversation at the table. "They're not watching."

"That's okay." Sam flipped the first one over and let it lean against the side of the loveseat. "That gives me an idea, actually."

"Yeah?" 

"Uncle Sam wants you to vote for him."

"Ooh, I like!"

"It's longer..." Huck peered at the empty expanse critically.

"Well, 'Uncle Sam' goes at the top for sure... how were those posters arranged, anyway?"

"The 'Uncle Sam wants you' was always at the top, in big letters, with the Uncle Sam in the middle, pointing out of the poster, and then the other text at the bottom, I think."

"May as well try it."

"You guys have been thinking about this, haven't you?" Claudia breathed, leaning over for a better look. 

"Yeah." Sam bit her lip, finally setting the marker down and drawing a thick edge for the first words.

"And what about you?" Huck asked Al.

"Hmm... 'Seaborn for America', 'Uncle Sam for President', 'Uncle Sam wants you to vote for him', and..."

"There should probably be a simple 'Seaborn for President' spot... picture of him in the middle or something..."

"Yeah. Hmm..."

Sam paused and looked over. "Racing stars."

"What?" 

"Impression of movement, change, advancement." 

"'Seaborn for a better America'?"

"Brighter, better, future..."

"That's good."

Slowly, the table fell silent, but they were so absorbed they didn't notice until they turned to hand the markers back.

"Did we jinx something else?" Sam asked, suppressed nervousness and laughter vying in her voice.

"What're you doing?" Josh asked softly.

"Stuff."

"For Uncle Sam?" Carol asked. They nodded. "Let's see it."

"I don't know if..."

"Come on," Leo interrupted gently. "Let's see it, kids." They looked at him hesitantly for a long moment, and finally smiled. Al turned and picked up what she'd just been working on.

"Seaborn: A Better America," Zoey read. "Accurate and catchy."

"Why, thank you, Zoey."

"Watch the ego," Mallory laughed lightly. "It's good. Who-"

"Huck thought of it, I made it," Al said promptly.

"Sam?" Donna asked gently. She ducked her head and retrieved the 'Uncle Sam wants you to vote for him' poster, holding it up shyly before her face and then slowly peeking around it.

Amy and Jed both started chuckling. "I like it."

"It's cute, it uses a preexisting American figure, and brings in the word 'vote'." 

Sam smiled in relief. "Thanks."

Al picked up her next one. "We're going to do another version of this one... maybe a couple, there's some combinations of the words..." 

"'Uncle Sam for President'," Josh read. "How do you guys come up with these things?"

"We've been thinking a lot."

"I see one more," Carol prompted gently.

"We need to put the flag on back of some of these," Sam said, picking up the first one.

Nobody moved.

"Come here," Jed directed at last. Still holding the poster, Samantha came shyly over to his comfortable chair and looked down at him expectantly. "That's beautiful." One finger traced lightly along the letters. "Isn't that beautiful, Leo?"

"Yes, it is," Leo agreed, smiling up at his granddaughter. "Let everybody see it good, kid." 

"Sam," Sam directed, stopping her as she turned. "May I see it, please?"

"Yeah." She handed it across and watched him look at it.

"'And someday'," he quoted, "'there's gonna be a Seaborn for America poster and you're going to look at it and say 'look what happened'.' Wow. Thank you."

"Sure." She stood there a little awkwardly and smiled, tucking her hair back behind her ears.

Sam lowered the poster to the center of the table. "No touching this," he warned. Toby glanced up and over at it. 

"Good idea," he said, and returned to his writing. 

"What's next?" Mallory asked, one hand tracing the letters in midair.

"Sam?" Leo asked after a minute. The younger man looked up. "Go on."

"Yeah." Sam drew a deep breath and let it out. "We're going to have to have lots of family photo ops over the next two and a half years." 

"We're gonna start out with guest lectures, panels, every public appearance we can fit in without affecting Sam's Senate schedule," Josh picked up. "What we're not gonna do is start out in New Hampshire or Iowa, and certainly not in the towns traditionally used to kick off campaigns."

"Nuclear waste disposal in Nevada," Al noted.

"Energy resources in California."

"Logging." 

"Habitat and oil drilling in Alaska."

"Mining safety in Montana, Utah, Kentucky, the Virginias..."

"The border in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona."

"Coastal erosion."

"Poverty in the Southern states." 

"Energy everywhere."

"Crime rates and drug use."

"That's too far to the left." 

"What, you want people making chicken noises before this has even gotten off the ground?"

"I've been voting for more money for treatment for the last five years, and I've floated at least ten bills for it."

"Some of them with me."

"Yeah."

"Some of this will depend on the VP."

"Let's worry about that next year."

"Sometime he's gonna--sorry, you're going to, Sam--have to address international issues and the possibility of terrorism here."

"Yeah." 

"This is a lot of issues."

"We're not done yet."

"Sam, you've always supported alternate energy, pro-environment stuff... you've got to make it clear that you don't think it's just a California issue, while also making it clear to Californians that you still care about them."

"No kidding. I have been doing this for a little while, you know." 

"There should be a spot on that."

"Also on the treatment thing."

"People are gonna think he's soft on crime."

"Then they can ask me about my voting record."

"Um, yeah, I think anybody who brings that up is going to have to spin it really well before we have to worry too much."

"Well, we all think this is good, but we've got to make everyone else think it."

"I know that! He just can't run away from himself."

"There's going to be some concern that some of this will sound patronizing." 

"We're pro-education, not pro-patronization," came the retort. "If people are that curious, they can ask Sam about it."

"We're assuming they will be curious." 

"That's a good point."

"It'd be easier to just elect a candidate who will talk about issues in a way they're familiar with and not have to worry about all of this."

"If we don't raise the level of public debate in this country, I swear, I'm quitting."

"We'll raise it, we'll raise it. I'm just saying... we have to address this accurately in the short span allowed us by the presumed attention span of the average American watching TV or listening to the radio or looking at a billboard, and that's not the easiest thing in the world."

"You haven't forgotten the women, have you?"

"No, no, not at all..."

"But you feel more confident of your strategy with regard to women?"

"Yeah." 

"You're going to have to take a stance on a woman's right to choose."

"Yes, well..." Sam stopped and his gaze went to the girls.

"You couldn't have maybe brought that up when they weren't in the room?" Josh accused. 

"No, Josh, she's right," Donna argued back. "It's not like Sam and Al don't know, and we have to start thinking about it now. It's not going to be a small issue if it does come up." 

"No woman should feel pressured to choose bearing a child because of how society might judge her," Andi put in. 

"And it will come up," Leo promised. "It will come up." He too looked at Sam and Al, who were deep in thought. 

"And in the case of..." Carol started before sighing and running a hand through her hair. "Yeah."

"You know," Sam told them lightly from where she sat on the couch, "we're the best-case scenario."

"That still doesn't get us around the fact that every single person in this room is pro-choice," Charlie said mildly. "Well, just about." 

"Well, when it comes to that, any sane person is pro-choice," Jed observed, catching his son-in-law's look.

Sam turned to Amy. "There's no way to avoid this?"

She shook her head, as did Donna. "I'm sorry, Sam. You've got to take a stance and you can't run away from yourself and you can't seem hypocritical."

"I said," Sam repeated, "we're the best-case scenario."

"And?" Josh prompted. 

Al lifted one slim shoulder. "It's not a binary issue. And the country has really gotten conservative enough about some things that it's not even as good as it was when we were born, in a way. But we're the best-case scenario, and not just for children of a rape situation."

"She's right. Any kid can turn out well or poorly depending on the upbringing. But that's practically a pro-life argument."

"The right to choose has been practically painted into a satirical corner where it's just about convenience. And I think that as Galileo's first project permeates further, there'll be less unplanned pregnancies. But it's about the woman's long-term health."

"We're still stuck on the pro-life side."

"No, you want it to be a real choice for every woman, so educate people about it! It's not any different than giving the stats on treatment versus enforcement." 

"Yeah, it is!"

"It really isn't. Sorry, Leo, but you're an argument for treatment, and Sam and Al are an argument for... oh, hell."

"We'll take it," Al said quietly.

"Sorry?"

"I said we'll take it. When it comes up, we'll answer it."

"What are you?"

"Oh, we're both pro-choice when it comes down to it. But sometimes you have to just tell the truth." 

"Over ten years after the fact, you think we should accuse the American public of being inflexible and closed-minded?" 

"Unless you want to bull it through as all-out pro-choice."

"CJ thought I should say that I disagreed with her because I didn't think it was right for anyone to keep a child because of public opinion, but that her lack of a choice has nothing to do with how much I love Samantha and Abigail." 

"That might be as clean as it gets," Josh said after a minute.

"I think we'd better move on to something a little bit simpler."

"You girls okay?" Mallory asked.

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Aunt Mal. We're fine."

"You'll be fine," Jed nodded at all of them.

They looked over at their two mentors.

"We will do what is hard," Charlie started.

"And we will do what is right..."

"We reach for the stars." 

"And we will forge on with a determination not dreamed of before."


	35. Ensemble Vignette

_Ensemble Vignette_

Participation in what they believed in, working towards something better, had eased the strain on the older members of the Bartlet administration, but no one was unchanged in the years since they left the White House.

Sam was still almost frustratingly gorgeous, the laugh lines of an older man appearing by his eyes as silver crept in a little at the temples. Jed had warned him to enjoy the salt and pepper look while he could, for if he won the Presidency, the next few years would change that drastically. Sometimes the faint lines of stress and anger appeared by his mouth, but passerby frequently pegged him at fortyish, not halfway through his fifties as he was. He rarely noticed the changes in Mallory; the determined spark and gentle affection that had together attracted him were the same.

Leo was almost translucent, all his force bound up in his expressive eyes. For all that, he often laughed and tickled his grandchildren and told them stories like a man fifteen years younger. Some quality had kept part of him from aging any more.

The same quality nearly ruled Jed and Abbey's appearance, too. Abbey was all dignified silver, it seemed, as straight-backed and elegant as she had been on the day her husband first stepped into the West Wing. Jed's eyes glinted more mischievously each year, even as he failed physically more and more, moving from cane to braces and walker and wheelchair, fighting each step of the way with the determination that had made his disease so famous in the first place.

Donna always teased Josh lightly whenever he tried to brush back his hair as he had when they first met. He would roll his eyes as his hand encountered skin where he still expected it to run into curly brown hair. Josh sometimes threatened to pull out all of his gray hairs, but Donna reminded him, as she had over the years when he got frustrated with reality, that it was the look unchanged in his eyes that counted. Donna herself had molded over the years into a synthesis of the strong women she knew: CJ, Andrea, Amy, Abbey. There were few issues indeed she feared, except for her husband's health. Unusual muscle pains, unknown even to the rest of the circle, had contributed as much as anything to his departure from Jamieson's staff. And so she cajoled and bribed him into being careful now, aware of how important this work was to him, and to her.

It was so, so odd to her, as the youngest member of the original circle, for Charlie had only been brought in later, to watch the others change and grow and age and yet stay the same in some other ways. Sam, for instance: he sometimes wouldn't walk down the street, but other times he could open his mouth and rock everyone down to their socks. And Mallory, who had feared becoming a bitter political wife or her mother, standing always and relentlessly with her husband, speaking out. Toby's eyes were still complex, but a little less uncomfortable, even when he was asked about grandchildren by anyone misled by his silvery hair and beard and the presence of Huck and Claudia. Indeed, it was usually Andi who took exception, coming up to smile with elegant confidence, hair she'd managed to keep red all this time about her face, and casually talk about births and weddings and first meetings. The 2014 campaign had left her oddly energized and ever more aware of issues she'd never thought about before.

Carol, who had finally and in complete frustration decided to stay single except for a possible pet, watched everyone else's children grow up. She never felt that she'd missed anything, being there for so many big steps for all of them as she had been. From Huck and Claudia to little Danielle... unique and utterly precious and raised in a strange world where senators and representatives were significant, almost celebrities, but more known. 

There were things that everyone else had to see about these children; that Noah liked puzzles and Claudia played the piano and Huck was as likely to bind up his words in a painting as to write them down. Would the public accept that Samantha loved to pull a string along for the cats to play with like any normal girl, or would they focus on her abnormal moments with animals, the vacation where she'd seen a wolf after it'd been caught in a trap and the way she'd cried when she saw pictures of a manatee hit by a motorboat? What would be front and center for Abigail: her time volunteering to help AIDS victims, or the time she'd joined a march protesting discrimination against women?

Who would the public see? Two extraordinarily intelligent girls raised by trusted friends when their mother died who would graduate high school at fifteen, or the legal daughters of some of the most prominent political faces in the country and the de facto granddaughters of a former President? And how would that perception affect the other children?

She wasn't worried about Josh and Donna's children, who resembled their parents astoundingly; they'd had the twins around since they were born, literally. Noah, with his light brown, curly hair and dimples and odd gray eyes; Joann, who dimpled on just one cheek and had hair just this side of blond to go with startling hazel eyes that would read anything in sight and hands that always needed to be on something, be it instrument or person or creature; and Josiah, with utterly charming green eyes and brown hair, who would rub his still chubby fingers along rock or bark but always resisted the walls in his mother's office.

Jocelyn and Zachary, both startlingly black-haired like their father at first glance, but with glimmering highlights if one took the time to look, and look they would. Joy's hazel eyes reflected an amazing boldness, leading to adventures in the past couple of years that drove her parents insane. Zach's blue eyes were quiet, reflective pools; anyone looking at him when he was thinking might dismiss him as being slow on the uptake, but he'd already dodged around enough stupid playground incidents to lay rest to that idea. Both of them, however, hated dressing up, and the PR expert in Carol groaned in frustration even as she sympathized. Sometimes formalwear was simply no fun at all, and they'd have to make it fun.

Charlie and Zoey's children wouldn't be involved directly in the short term, but hopefully they would be in the long term, as would their parents. Delicate and kind and creative and completely colorblind, those three... or at least Danielle would be once she was old enough. More than any of the others, they seemed to be a perfect synthesis of their parents... or so their grandfather kept insisting.

Husbands and wives and friends had all agreed on the difficulty; if even one child were to ever make it clear it was too rough, they would call off their hopes and dreams, for such was the nature of their peculiar idealism. If the path to the highest office in the land was too difficult for a child at the distance of two or three layers of relations and communications, perhaps something else was wrong.

There was still hope it would not be so, that Seaborn for America would reach for the stars and find them within their grasp. That there would be a first One Hundred Days like no other.

Carol knew they would all change, and hoped none of the changes would turn to bitterness down the road. That was not an acceptable price either.

_'How arrogant are we? Or are we, really? We've been at this for almost 20 years, and some of us far longer. I saw the first 100 Days that CJ laid out for Sam so long ago, and I didn't think it was possible to make it more radical, but he is. Every single issue he could think of is on there. Energy, education, health care, women, more education, environment, free trade, foreign relations, crime, violent crime, guns, pollution, land use, science funding, AIDS, defense spending, minorities, gay rights, civil rights... it goes on and on.'_

And with all of them, wherever they looked, stood CJ's daughters; two girls who had started greeting elected officials on the street when they were five, who had helped with a Senate campaign when girls their age were usually just discovering how to really flirt. Twins who seemed to their parents to be growing up too fast... and yet who both demonstrated levelheadedness and wit and good humor and everything else healthy time and again. Samantha and Abigail, whom they had thought to protect from politics, who could instead be protecting them by exercising skills that were as natural as reading to them. Two girls, who stood and prayed in a cemetery that spring that they were doing what they were supposed to be doing, what their mother would have approved of if she could, and who sometimes stood and shook inside at the idea of what they were trying to do.


	36. Decisions Are Made By Those Who Show Up

_Decisions Are Made By Those Who Show Up_

"I need a copy of the Jackson Hole schedule!" 

"I thought we were going to Casper?"

"We don't have to coordinate around the same things there," came the retort.

"Oh. Right."

"Where's the fifty-year plan for mining? I know I put it somewhere around here." 

"It's probably right under the fifty-year plan for waste disposal."

Al growled under her breath at the offending speaker, and Carol jerked her head up from where she was debating the Wyoming schedule with a volunteer.

"Do you have a problem?" she inquired.

Anne Westin came into the room, phone to one ear and gesturing with her free hand. "I can understand if you don't want to give us that venue, but the Senator would very much like to visit your area."

"Mining's always going to be around," the other answered Carol.

"I can understand that, sir, but from what I understand, there were multiple scheduling conflicts during his other campaigns." Anne suddenly looked around and Carol spun her hand in the air briefly, pointing toward the door.

"It's been a large part of this country's history, and it's a large part of our current economy and our pollution," she replied evenly, as Anne turned and tried to finish persuading a California mayor to set aside some time for Sam.

"So?"

"How is it related to where the plan for waste disposal is? And why is it that whatever Al's been looking for this whole week is also related to waste disposal?" 

A quick, furious glance at the teenager gave no new material for a possible insult. "All of it's trash. What's the difference?"

Anne finished up and shut the phone off, giving Carol a quick thumbs-up as she casually stepped into the room. The other nodded minutely in relief before responding. "Really? What's trash, exactly?"

He glared at Al, then at Samantha, seated at a desk on the far side of the room and typing rapidly. "Doesn't make a difference. You're all too liberal to get anywhere. You can't do things by being nice and explaining everything."

"So I see," Carol answered evenly. "And I think it does make a difference."

"You have kids working for you."

"They know what they're doing."

"Oh, yeah? Sets them apart, doesn't it?" 

"You're fired," she replied with apparently perfect calm.

"Who said you can fire me?"

"Get out," Anne answered fiercely, stepping forward. "Right now, maybe we can tell the Senator you were fired because of philosophical differences with the campaign. But only if you walk out that door right now."

Swift, angry fingers pulled off the staff badge and swung it down.

Al jerked back and down.

Will Bailey came in from the next room.

The edge of the badge whistled just above the papers on Al's desk, and defiant, furious eyes full of more intense resentment than they'd ever seen met Carol and Anne's angered gaze.

Swiftly, Will stepped forward. "I think the ladies were inviting you to leave."

"Oh, you."

"Yeah, me. And get out. The door's over there," Will answered calmly, gesturing as though he was simply pointing out an object of interest.

"Huh."

Will waited half a minute, as the other refused to move, then rolled his eyes, stepped up, and punched the other in the jaw.

"Like I said, get out."

"That's assault," came the mumble.

"Go right ahead and press charges. We'll come right back with your little display a minute ago," Carol advised.

The door swung open and shut, and Carol's arms went protectively around Al.

"I'm all right," she murmured, glancing over at her sister.

"Got it," Sam told them smugly. "I think," she added, turning to Anne.

Anne nodded. "I think I'll let this recharge a little bit," she said, pulling her phone out again.

"Is everyone really all right?" Sam inquired over the line.

Will snorted with laughter. "Can you do that?"

"I forgot to turn the speakerphone off," Anne replied indignantly. 

"Yeah, for about a week, every time that guy started in again," came the sarcastic reply from the phone.

"I'm okay, Uncle Sam," Al said, turning toward Anne. "At least, nothing a little sugar and memo reading won't fix."

"Ha, ha. Samantha?"

"I was, like, twenty feet away and I was working with Anne, Uncle Sam; I'm all right."

There was a relieved sigh. "Any other trouble?"

"No, I think we got all of them," Carol answered, lifting an eyebrow at the volunteers in the room. There were some nervous swallows as they found something to do. "I still can't believe people have gone to this kind of effort so early on," she added, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

"Yeah, well..." Sam sighed. "They did, and they didn't bring us down, and now I've got Josh yelling at me on the other line wanting to know what's going on."

"It's too bad," Anne noted thoughtfully. "All of them were pretty smart; they would have done us some good."

"Talk to you guys later, and take care. Thanks for hitting him, Will." 

"You're welcome," came the calm reply.

"Bye, Senator."

"Decisions get made by the people who show up," Carol told Anne, eyes crinkling a little, mischievously. "They showed up, and they made the wrong decision. They're going to miss a great show, and some incredible decisions."

"Like mining," Al said triumphantly, discovering the file and waving it around.

Sam's phone rang, and she stuck her tongue out at it and the computer before picking up, the other hand toying with her staff badge. "Seaborn for America National Headquarters. How can I help you?"

* * *

"Can I help you?" Margaret asked the young man who had just entered her office.

"I'm here for an interview," he answered, just a little nervously.

"With?" she prompted, one eyebrow raised. His face twitched a little bit, eyes growing anxious. Margaret sighed internally, but if they couldn't handle her, they couldn't handle the interview.

"Toby Ziegler and Josh Lyman?"

"Please have a seat; I'll be right back," she responded courteously, standing and stepping to the inner door. He sat nervously, just on the edge of the chair, as Margaret knocked. "Your next interview is here," she told them.

"How's he look?"

"Pretty freaked out."

Toby sighed, just a little. "How many more?"

"You have two more before Ms. Hudson comes in."

"Send him in," Josh sighed, propping his chin on one hand and pulling his notebook over with the other. 

"Right." She withdrew and beckoned to the young man. "They're ready for you. Right through here."

"Um, thank you," he answered, standing and straightening his suit a little bit as he stepped to the door.

"You forgot your portfolio," she noted calmly, sitting back down.

"Oh. Right. Thanks." He grabbed it, blushing, and vanished inside. 

"Can you get the door, please?" Toby asked as soon as the newcomer cleared the threshold.

"Um, sure." 

"Thanks," Josh told him. "Have a seat." 

Toby flipped casually through a resume. "Name?" 

"Marcus Lowder Trent."

"Where'd you graduate from?"

"University of California at Berkeley." He tried to smooth his tie down again, not seeing the two older men glance at each other.

"Good grades, motivated, tutored your first year..." Josh read off. "Why'd you stop tutoring?"

"I joined the honor society and moved into an apartment. I tutored the kids in that complex." 

"Why?"

"I... they couldn't learn in school, I guess."

"How'd you like the atmosphere there?" Josh asked, mouth quirking up a little.

"It was different, pretty freewheeling in some regards."

"What's your position on education?"

"I'm not sure I have the data or the time to fairly answer your question."

"Give us an abstract."

"I have no idea how to make sure everyone actually benefits from it."

"Do you believe global warming is occurring?"

"No." 

"So you think we should be able to do whatever we want and to hell with the consequences?"

"I didn't say that," Marcus protested. "I said I don't think that particular consequence is actually occurring."

"Okay..." Toby sighed.

"Anglicized?" Josh suddenly said, eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your last name. It's Anglicized?"

He sighed a little. "They were trying to fit in a little better."

Josh smiled back, just a bit. "Yeah. So, is there any particular reason you should work for us?"

Marcus' face faded into nervousness again, and he looked down, trying to think of something that might make him unique.

"I didn't hide," he said at last. 

"Could you explain that one a little bit?" Toby requested.

"I've always done my best to participate, whether it was in the honor society or my apartment complex or the millage that determined whether we got a new playground. I don't back off."

"We're going to hold you to that," Josh advised softly, and moved on.

* * *

"You just graduated cum laude from one of the toughest schools in the country with a double major in public relations and political science, and a double minor in sociology and communication. You're already halfway done with your first master's degree. Why do you want to work for the Senator?"

Leandra's hands were folded neatly in front of her as Josh posed the question. Toby, whom she had first met almost ten years before, studied her intently, dark eyes inscrutable and yet not.

No deep breath portrayed her hesitation, though she was hesitant, suddenly afraid of answering in a manner that would make it look like she wanted to work for Sam Seaborn's campaign purely because of his association with the Galileo Foundation that had caused her to come onto Toby's radar and virtually guaranteed her an interview opportunity. "There are several reasons, just as there are several reasons I shouldn't work for this campaign," she began, raising one eyebrow just a little bit. Josh cupped his chin and one hand and regarded her with a deceptively soft look; she knew his highly political mind and quick intellect were analyzing every word, gesture, and expression. "However, I think the most important reason is the level to which I believe people can accomplish great things when determined and principled."

"And you think that we're such a group of people?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why?" 

"Briefly, all of you associated with the campaign have demonstrated a strong interest in the issues at all levels of government and have been acting on that interest for several years." 

"We're not doing it for convenience?" Josh inquired with a slight smile. Leandra's mouth quirked upwards a little bit. 

"No, I don't think you are."

"But that interest has affected almost all of your goals in life for nearly ten years," he continued. "How do we know you're not just wanting to work for us because we did something for you, and how do you think that would look to the public?"

"This is not the only campaign I've applied to or interviewed for; some would have hired me if I felt comfortable working for the exact opposite of that which brought me to this point, and some declined to take my application seriously. I'm here because it's widely known you're looking for younger staff and because I could work for this campaign without compromising my principles."

The two men leaned back and looked at her for a few minutes, thoughtfully.

"Thank you for coming in, Ms. Hudson," Toby finally said, quite formally. "You gave an interview that was most... enlightening." He stood to shake her hand, as did Josh, and then she went out past Margaret, not seeing Toby turning a pen between his fingers as he looked down at her college application essay, or Josh's hand running distractedly through his hair.

"Well..." the younger man sighed at last. "That was interesting." 

"Huh," Toby noted after a few minutes. Josh looked over at him, eyes twinkling with the hint of a smile.

"You don't like her?"

"Of course I like her," Toby retorted.

"What's your problem, then?"

"I don't have a problem." Josh just leaned back and looked at him. "Okay, a little bit."

"Toby, that's like saying Amy has a little problem with Sudan." The older man lifted one eyebrow sardonically. "Okay, bad example." 

"Yeah!"

"So what's your problem, then?" Josh wanted to know, raising his eyebrows in queried puzzlement.

"We can only take the youthful theme so far," Toby replied, tapping his pen on the table. "The average age of our candidates is 25, perhaps 28 at the most. That's no way to run a Presidential campaign. We're running the risk of getting our asses handed to us not only by more experienced players on the Republican side, but also by our own party. The reputations we have, Josh: me, you, Andi, Amy, Donna, Sam, Mal, Zoey, even Neil and Mareen, those will only take us so far when we're filling positions with people that have never helped run a campaign before, let alone actually run one." He paused in his rant and took a deep breath. "We need someone big."

"No," came the decisive response.

"Yes."

"No way. Toby! We can't use Jed for this."

"I wasn't suggesting we should," Toby returned quietly.

"You want Leo for this?"

"Yes."

"You want the candidate's father-in-law on the campaign?"

"Yeah." 

Josh snorted and leaned back in his chair, one hand over his face. "Toby..."

"It doesn't have to be an official position. He can come in and help out unofficially for a few months."

"Mal's gonna kill you," Josh tried to point out.

"Yeah."

"And we still haven't solved our mystery, Toby."

"What mystery is that, Josh?"

"What's your problem with Leena?" 

"I don't have a problem with her."

"Okay." Josh paused and ran a hand through his hair. "So... what position are we offering her?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"What about the other people?"

"I haven't thought about them yet, either."

"So this whole thing has basically been a waste of time?"

"Not at all; we decided to bring Leo on board."

"No, you decided that. You're on your own on this one, Toby."

"Fine." He stood and gathered his files together. Josh just sighed and leaned back in his chair.

* * *

"Absolutely not, Josh."

Josh rubbed one side of his face and looked over at Leo, then tossed a glance at Toby.

"We're going to miss things; things that are important, that could cost us this election." Toby spoke quietly, with that extraordinary force underneath, the force capable of moving a nation, which had indeed moved it.

"You're not gonna miss things," Leo returned with confidence. "You're not. And if you do, that's the way it is. It's only going to cost you if you let it bother you so much that you miss a bunch of other things. Come on, you guys. You know better than this. Jed and I are the old guys; you're the minds of the party now, if they'll let you, if you let you. You don't need us. You need you."

Sam looked away from his father-in-law. "We do need you." 

"Not like this, you don't."

"Gentlemen," Jed started, "you've always known, I thought, that by the time Sam started his campaign, Leo and I would be past the point of being a major factor in the campaign. We'll do everything we can for you when it gets closer, but the strategy must be yours. It cannot be ours; you can't ride in on our coattails."

"It's still not ours," Sam retorted, hand over his face.

"It is," Leo said with ancient force. "It is, Sam. It doesn't matter who wrote it. The four of you understood each other, worked with each other, and you became a team before we ever set foot in the White House. That strategy belongs to all of you. Don't try to pretend it doesn't."

Josh swallowed and looked down, and Noah and Joy continued from where they had stopped to watch a bit of that conversation, the old argument that wasn't even an argument but a symbol of the pain they all carried.

The low murmur of Toby's voice followed them a ways, then wavered into silence before their destination.

"Hi, Anne," Noah greeted, closing the door after Joy.

"Hi, Noah and Joy. How're the two of you doing?"

"They're talking about the thing again."

Now Anne swung around from the desk where she was outlining a series of campaign stops, fixing her eyes on the two children. "They still want Leo with this?"

Joy nodded, her face downcast.

Noah's distant gray eyes seemed to look through her. "I think they're arguing about CJ, actually," he added apologetically. "Sorry, Sam, Al."

"Don't apologize," Al tried. "But we're trying to watch this," she told them, turning from the TV and gesturing at it before adding, "I know why Grandpa Leo won't come and help."

"Leo's approaching eighty," Anne said mildly. "He doesn't need a reason..." Joy rolled her eyes and turned around, dark hair twirling. "Joy, honey, I didn't mean it like that. But I think that maybe sometime we should talk, or you and your mother should, about why Toby and Josh and your father are suddenly uncertain." 

"What're you doing?" Noah inquired abruptly of his siblings, in a corner with Toby and Andi's twins.

"Sorting stickers," Josiah answered.

"Huck said they're for the issues calendars," Joanie clarified, as Noah wrinkled his forehead in puzzlement.

"Ah, I see. Good idea." 

"Crap," Claudia muttered, reaching for a paper towel suddenly. "I have to redo this whole thing." 

"Language," Noah and Anne said in concert. The girl grinned sheepishly, still wiping off the board.

"Shh!" Sam and Al practically shouted. "Let's run it over," Sam continued.

"Right."

"What are you-" 

"Mom's press briefings."

"I thought you already watched those."

Sam ran it back some more and then paused just as the camera angle switched back to the podium. The two turned to the rest of the room. "We're looking for some ideas for press."

Joy stared for a moment, then turned and walked over to the little group working on calendars.

Anne froze, pencil poised over the paper, caught up in a disconcerting feeling that she was staring at a little bubble of time.

"You know," Noah noted finally through the chills running down his back, "you're all looking at us." Huck looked up suddenly, lips parting a little bit, for an instant looking very much like his father. "Which briefing is that?" he continued, brushing one hand casually across his shirt.

"Uh..." Sam turned, breaking the moment, and lifted the case. "August 2001." She hit play, and her mother's stilled glare came alive again. 

"This is an issue too important to be governed by an attempt to score points."

"So the White House doesn't have a position on this?" the reporter continued. 

"That's not what I meant, Mark, and you know it," CJ returned sharply, nodding to another reporter. "Steve?" 

"CJ, what's your position?" the other inquired, paper and pencil held ready.

"My position is that I serve at the pleasure of the President, Steve." Her voice was lower, less cutting, but was possessed of a force everyone in the room recognized, whether from CJ herself or from her daughters. Al caught the subtle way she straightened as she spoke, and sat up a little more herself.

"Regarding punishment for rape," Steve clarified. Anne flinched, and heard her grandfather's loud weeping again, from months after this briefing, when he could hardly look at her without shedding tears he didn't dare show in front of his staff, who had suffered so greatly. Noah and Huck shifted uneasily, the latter hugging Joy gently.

On the screen, CJ lifted her eyebrows and angled them almost dangerously. "I get the same level of justice as any other woman, Steve. Whether that's any justice at all is up to application of the current laws, which includes catching the attackers." They could see Carol, standing off to the side, stop writing and stare at her boss, astounded. "While it'd be nice to have a conviction for 100 percent of assaults, we all know that's not going to happen, because we have an imperfect system." The screen froze as Sam's finger jabbed out, and Al scribbled something down. Before she could start it again, Claudia got up awkwardly from under her pile of calendar boards and walked over, touching one hand to the screen lightly, where the elder CJ was frozen in a quick moment of running her fingers down her abdomen; just the change in the angle of her arm was visible, and would not have been at any other moment. The twins shivered and brushed their hair back in a nervous, identical gesture, and then the screen came to life again. "All we can do is go on, and try to ensure that the violent individuals don't win by changing our lives drastically. That's just as true for me as it is for the hypothetical Jane Doe; working for the President doesn't automatically mean things will change. That's all; I'll be back around dinnertime. Thank you, everybody." She turned and descended from the podium, Carol opening the door for her as a few reporters returned her thanks. 

"What is it?" Anne inquired after a minute.

"We have an imperfect system," Al answered.

"Look what happened," Sam added.

"We've got it," Al continued. "We've got it. Just because it's an imperfect system is no reason to not try to make it the best we can; it's no reason to let it continue to be as or more imperfect. It's no reason to let the worst and shallowest part of ourselves win. It's a reason to challenge ourselves."

"I believe that, and so do your parents," Anne told her. "How are you going to make everyone else believe that?"

"Margaret Mead," Sam put in.

"The old staff's promise," Claudia said softly.

"Never doubt..." Noah started.

There was a quick knock, and the door swung open, revealing Josh, Toby, and Sam.

"...that a small and dedicated group of people can change the world," his father continued.

"Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has," Sam finished, gazing around the room. "I see you've all been quite productive while we've been busy downstairs."

Anne stood and turned to face him. "What's the word?"

Sam smiled gently as Josh grinned. "The word... the word is that we go forward, as our mentors and fathers taught us. They have given us the gift of years of advice, and now they give us the gift of confidence." He nodded at her expression of astonishment. "Decisions are made by those who show up, Josh, Toby, Anne, Sam, Al, Huck, Claudia, Joy, Noah, Joanie, Josiah. And so we will find those who will show up." 

"And what about the rest?" Al asked.

"What do you think?" Josh responded.

"We'll invite them anyway."

"Exactly. It's their country too; it's past time everyone got invited to show up." Anne turned and looked down at the schedule, then picked up the rough issues calendar spreadsheet and held it up, suddenly grinning.


	37. We're Here For Whatever You Need, Part I

**Author's note**: Strictly speaking, this doesn't need to be split into two parts here at the way I have on my LJ, but it just keeps it consistent. It's really the same unbelievably huge chapter, and I hope you enjoy it.

_We're Here For Whatever You Need_

Later that year, on the first Tuesday in November, the most astounding story appeared on the front page of every major paper in the country. Caught by the headline, "We Want You For Decision '18", passerby took a look at the byline.

And then they looked again.

_'Daniel Concannon - In a bold move not seen in decades, Senator Sam Seaborn of California named his campaign staff two weeks ago, and shortly thereafter declared his intent to take the issues of this Presidential election, one year off, directly to the people._

Generally, positions are filled after the major primaries, when the candidate has a better idea of whether or not he'll actually need those people. Senator Seaborn, however, is slowly revealing a long-crafted strategy aimed at changing the heart of American politics forever. Already, ads are peppering our airwaves with information on things like energy, education, health, crime, coastlines, human rights, terrorism, pollution, guns and every other issue you or I could possibly think of. And in a manner destined to make them famous in the circle of American politics for all time, the Seaborn for America team has crammed facts into these ads, letting the American people make a more informed decision...'

"How many times are you going to read that?"

Amy didn't even look up from the paper. "Until it sinks in."

"Amy," Donna put in wryly from where she leaned over the back of a chair, "you're my boss and you have been for many years, and you know I respect you very much, but if it hasn't sunk in by the tenth reading, I don't think it's going to make it."

She turned in mock indignation, caught the expressions on her companions' faces, and smiled. "All right," Amy conceded, folding the paper in half and dropping it back on the table. "Let's get started." 

"I thought you had a thing."

"I thought you did."

"They let the two of you run things?" Carol inquired.

Donna sighed. "So they say."

"It's our assistants," Amy replied with mock solemnity. "They stay all night and give the illusion of activity. What's your thing?"

"I'm still reading Danny's story."

"You are not," Donna retorted. 

"Okay, I'm not," Carol returned, without looking up from where she was scribbling notes carelessly. "I'm still not completely over it, though."

"You didn't ask him to come back?" Carol shook her head vigorously at Donna. 

"Absolutely not. I'd never ask him to do something like this... and I shouldn't be surprised that he did. It's just..." Carol trailed off, running her fingers along the edge of the table. 

"He was inspired by something extraordinary?" Amy asked, eyes sharp and understanding.

"Yeah," Carol sighed. "Yeah. He's always been happy to be the happy uncle, but..." She stopped again, bowing her head and letting her thumb run restlessly along the edge of her notebook.

"But what?" Donna asked softly, hands folded neatly under her chin. 

"When he came back," Carol said quietly, "he said he felt like there was something he didn't do."

Amy looked aside in understanding, as Donna nodded slowly.

"I think we all did," Carol continued, "and we've showed it in different ways through the years. But Danny... the way he... it was that the kindest thing for them was to not have Danny in the room, and they both knew that, but Danny wanted to break through what CJ was becoming and let her be herself again, and he's never gotten over the fact that not only did CJ not want that, he didn't really want it for her, either, because he could see the cost. And so he stayed aside, and never said a word, until he came back over a month afterward. You and I both know, Donna, that he was never quite the same reporter after that. I think he stayed until the last briefing of the administration, and left the business almost entirely, because he didn't want that to happen again... well." She took a deep breath, sweeping one hand across her eyes, and gazed across the room. "This is his final gift to CJ, because he never had a chance before, not when it would have mattered..."

"Does it matter now?" Donna asked gently.

"I think it does," Amy responded. "He had the pull to get that on the front page of just about every major newspaper, conservative and liberal, and people still remember his name. They still remember it. The man hasn't written a news story in a decade and they're tripping when they read the byline."

"Who do they remember?" 

"They remember the reporter," Carol answered with a deep breath. "I can tell, from the calls some of the papers have gotten."

"So..." Amy tapped her pen on the table. "That left the door open for some of the ads we've been holding back, don't you think?"

"International or domestic?" Donna asked, straightening.

"Yes," Carol got in. "Don't forget the women's rights one."

"Did we vet that?"

Carol lifted her eyebrows at her colleague. "I don't know. Did you?"

Donna stared at her for a second, then laughed. "Yeah, yeah, we did. Sorry. It's ready. It's an information ad, not an attack ad."

"And," Amy emphasized, "we've got organizations ready to say so, once certain Republicans jump on it as being an attack ad rather than an info spot."

"Good. What else?"

"We already had a big set of ads set up for the next couple of nights." 

"Why?"

"I knew Danny was going to run the story sometime this week. I just didn't know when."

"So, tonight, Wednesday, Thursday...?"

"Yes. And the spots are at various times of the day, so we'll catch a lot of people."

"Excellent. Let's talk about the spots for the first primary."

* * *

"Sorry," Donna said sheepishly, slipping in and closing the door. "Joanie's at that age where everything in school is exciting."

"Take advantage of it," Andi suggested, raising one eyebrow. "It's not going to last." 

"Oh, I know." Donna chuckled.

"You mean my kids have been bored with school for the last fifteen years and never thought to tell me?" Ben asked indignantly.

"I've been trying to tell you that," Andi insisted.

"So you have. Ah, well." He sighed and turned to face both of them. "Scheduling?"

"Yeah," Donna affirmed. "Running afoul of a major bill in either house would be somewhat unfortunate. We're mostly looking to coordinate with the issues our own party wants to bring up, but..." she trailed off meaningfully.

"We have a password."

"You do not," Andi smirked. "Don't listen to him, Donna." 

"I've worked with Republicans before, you know," Donna admonished the Congressman, shaking her head. "I know there's not really a password. I've even worked with you before, a little bit."

"Too true." He adjusted his tie a little. "The border with Mexico and free trade. This spring. We know he's coming."

"You want us to reveal our strategy as a preemptive strike, or we should avoid it at all costs?" 

Ben sighed and leaned back. "I'm not sure, Donna, honestly. Andi?"

"Sam already knows this," Andi shrugged, "but the Senate Republicans have a bill in committee right now that will loosen even more restrictions on trade, companies, workers... and it'll make his platform on it all but impossible to propose, let alone enforce."

"Yeah, I particularly like the provision whereby restrictions on child labor are that they must be at least ten years of age and make a ridiculously low height and weight requirement."

Donna jerked upright. "When were these put-"

"Just a couple of weeks ago," Ben answered. Andi nodded in confirmation. 

"What would happen if certain domestic and international groups were given certain details about these two bills?" Donna wanted to know, face perfectly straight but eyes glinting.

"I don't know what groups you mean," Ben Anders shrugged, "but I would expect that it'd get out sooner or later anyway. There are any number of people who have access to some level of detail on either the House or the Senate version."

"I think that will be taken care of within about half an hour of my phone call," Donna advised, voice dangerous. "What else?" 

"I think we can both arrange for resolutions to coordinate with some of the other platforms."

"Mmm," Andi agreed. "They'll be nonbinding, but we can give him some boost on energy, oil, land use, environment..."

Donna nodded gratefully. "Keep it moderate, though... I've seen posters of Sam allegedly hugging a tree a couple of times from his California campaigns, and even when they're trying to support him, that's not the best angle for him."

Ben snorted with laughter. "That's going to keep my mind busy for a while, Donna. Thanks for that."

"Anytime."

"I think we can both keep you updated," Andi told Donna, leaning back in her seat. "That is, unless the honorable gentleman from Minnesota is given a gag order by his leadership."

Ben chuckled in response. "I'm pretty sure that's not gonna happen, but you'll be the first to know if it does. Seriously, Donna, I'm happy to help, in any way I can. I've enjoyed every time I've worked with all of you over the years, regardless of the calls I've gotten afterward."

"We've enjoyed working with you too, Congressman," Donna replied with a brilliant smile. "Hopefully, some day the cooperation will be more common and our parties, while opposed, won't be so busy opposing each other that they make things harder for the country." He nodded in agreement.

"That's always bothered me. I thought about switching parties, but..." Andi chimed gentle laughter.

"We're just as bad. I know. Hopefully we can change it."

"Was there anything else likely to come up?" Donna checked, closing her notebook. 

"Not exactly," Andi replied, leaning forward. "Donna, where are we planning on finding a qualified VP candidate Sam can tolerate and who can tolerate him?"

"And who's also not from California," Ben added dryly.

"Yeah." Donna raked one hand through her hair thoughtfully. "We're looking at some governors, I think. You know our long-term plans, of course, but that won't be a factor until the next election at the earliest, even if Sam does well next November. There's actually a number of possibilities, like Frederick, even Jamieson, but to find someone whose pros outweigh their cons..." she trailed off and shook her head. "Sorry. I don't usually contradict myself like that anymore."

"You're not really sure yet?" Anders checked.

"Not so much, no," she sighed. "Check back in a couple of months; we haven't even been through a primary yet." Abruptly, she stopped and frowned.

"Donna?" Andrea queried gently. The younger woman shook her head.

"Sorry. Anyway, it'll be hard to find someone to balance the ticket geographically and politically without endangering Sam's platform and still leaving the way open for a change."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she smiled reassuringly. "I was just... just thinking. About the last time I helped with a Presidential campaign." Andi nodded slowly. 

"You've got that thing, right?"

"Yeah." 

"We'll see you later, then."

"It was good talking to you again, Donna," Ben added, waving farewell. 

"Bye. Thank you." The door closed, and he turned to his former House colleague in puzzlement.

"What was that?"

Andrea's face tightened and her eyes became distant. _'And I am terrified that you will do the same thing...'_ "That was a former Bartlet staffer."

_'Toby, they can't control how many they-'_

_'I know, Andi! But twins, now, after...'_

"I know that. I mean, what was that?"

_'I am terrified of something happening to you, and you can't change that. The only thing that can change that is to go back over eleven months and be in that office.'_

She looked up. "She was thinking about the last time they did this." 

_'How do you know that would have changed anything?'_

"Oh." He glanced down quietly. "Why is it bothering her so much?"

_'Toby? What happened?'_

Andi frowned a little, through memory and friendship. "I never told you what happened to CJ and the staff, did I?" 

_'This doesn't go outside...'_

He shook his head. "Not really. I know that it had something to do with President Bartlet's MS, but given the atmosphere at the time..." he stopped and made a disgusted sound. "Well, it could have been anything boxing them in."

Andrea looked down, knowing that she could have done more for CJ, feeling almost as Toby must have, so long ago, sitting trembling in his office and looking at her with fear in his eyes.

_'We, uh, had a strategy session--Leo, Sam, Josh, CJ and myself--to plan what to do. Yeah, we looked at both options. Sam was angry about it, and I think deeper down, the rest of us were too, but we were all too busy being political operatives... CJ polled on it. She polled on it, Andi! She followed through on her original intent despite the danger to herself, and she solidified her strategy, and left strategy for us so reelection wouldn't suffer, and she did it to protect the rest of us! There is nothing, no duty, no written statement, no oath, that approaches the level of dedication that CJ ultimately felt was required! And I am terrified... I should have realized why she was pushing herself... I should have done something other than what I did... I'm terrified of what I'm missing...'_

When she looked up again, tears had built in her eyes, but she spoke steadily. "It was reelection strategy, Ben. CJ was protecting them on the family values front and whatever else she could. She had polls conducted, after she found out she was at risk for complications, to make sure she was right. And she was right, Ben, you were there... And so, CJ, in those few months between when she found out and her death, wrote Jed Bartlet's reelection strategy and whole sections of strategy for his second term." Andrea's hands sculpted the air delicately, fingers trembling as she encompassed a Presidency. "And she left notes and tapes for her colleagues and for her daughters... and she wrote Sam's election strategy, starting from then. She wrote his One Hundred Days, and she wrote the memo that inspired the Galileo Foundation." She paused to take a breath. "And CJ's daughters know all of this, and so do my Huck and CJ."

Ben Anders stared at her for a moment, then got up and went to the window, facing away. She could hear his deep, gulping breaths. 

"Dear God," he finally whispered, turning back. "I had no idea it was so much..."

"Neither did they, while it was happening."

"No one?"

"Sam Seaborn knew."

"Dear God," Ben repeated, finally sitting down again. "I don't know how any of them survived it."

"Take a good look at one of them sometime, and you'll see that parts of them didn't," Andrea advised him. "But now you know."

"Yeah." He looked up. "Why didn't you tell me any of this while we were working on the bill?" For years, that phrase had referred to one bill, and one bill alone.

She smiled briefly, with clear bitterness. "The pain was a little too fresh, or at least it was for them."

He nodded slowly. "Now that I think about it, I can see that in the way Donna responded to the name change."

"Yeah." She stood and picked up her coat.

"So when Donna said she was thinking about the last time she did this..."

"That wasn't quite what she meant? Yeah. They--we, I suppose--don't really refer directly to it."

"What did she mean?"

"CJ." With that, Andi opened the door and was gone, jaw clenched against tight tears.

* * *

Anne bent over the national map, fingers of one hand tapping it gently while the other held a pen restlessly. Cars here. Oil over there. Religion there. Civil rights all through there. Mining safety all along that strip. Environment was everywhere. And she hadn't even tried adding Mallory's issues in yet. Little stars marked the locations of the original Galileo Foundation and her daughter foundations: New Hampshire for education, Illinois for treatment/enforcement, a corner of Texas for immigration, Kentucky for crime, Colorado for environment, and Washington for energy. Heaving a sigh, she sat back and tossed the pen down in disgust. 

"Well, damn."

Two faces turned to look at her: Andrea Wyatt's expression of ironic amusement, even though the older woman didn't know how to break some of these down any better than Anne did; and Leandra Hudson, about as opposite to Andi as one could get, except for the graceful height she'd acquired. Leena's eyebrows raised in surprise and worry, even as her eyes went to the map, clearly wishing she had more actual experience.

"Southeast or the Midwest?" Wyatt wanted to know, rising and coming to sit along another side of the huge board.

Anne moaned softly in response. "Yes." One hand raked through the dark hair she'd inherited from her mother and grandmother, disrupting the ponytail she'd pulled it into, and she pulled it out and twisted her hair back again. "I don't know why I agreed to be the regional coordinator for this. I must be insane..."

"Shall I tell Josh that?"

Disconcerted Bartlet blue made an appearance as her eyes snapped open. "Don't you dare."

"How are you planning to stop me?" the Senator from Maryland inquired with a sly smile.

Anne sat forward and thumped her left hand onto the map, making the pens laying on it roll about. "I'll think of something."

"It'd be easier if you thought of something for that," the redhead observed, gesturing to the map with her eyes.

"You first."

"No." 

"Yes."

"No way."

"Fine," Anne growled after a pause. "But..." she sighed and waved a hand helplessly.

"I just think you can't do this without Josh to argue with," Andi mocked after Anne continued to stare at the map. She glowered again.

"The razor-sharp intellect he's been honing and that Grandpa's been yelling at him about for the past several years, you mean?"

"Yeah, that."

Several more minutes passed, until Westin finally stood and paced, one hand on her hip. "Can we put people in all fifty?"

"Of course."

Anne abruptly paused in her pacing and fixed a piercing gaze nearly identical to her grandfather's on the only other person in the room. "You have more theory on this than I do."

Leandra lifted her dark eyes from the map. "I'm not sure how much theory can help us with this."

"Toby and Josh have never interviewed anybody they didn't think could move past theory. In fact, some of them don't even have the theory."

"Do you want my theoretical knowledge, or don't you?" In the moment after she spoke it, Leena realized the unintentional joke she'd just uttered, and started giggling. Andi and then Anne followed her, the latter rolling her eyes.

"I don't know; how theoretical is it?" she finally asked, eyes still glinting with merriment. 

"I may have to ask it," Leandra answered, trying to keep a straight face. Andi snickered again, eyes dancing.

"That's why they call it book-learning."

"Yeah," Anne assented. There was a pause while they composed themselves, then she pointed at the map again. "So."

"In a way, it's useless and even counterproductive for a Democrat as far to the left as Senator Seaborn to campaign in the south," Leandra managed. "But I think you already know that. The only route he can take is to campaign there on some of the safer issues, but that's not as effective as it was ten years ago."

"Why not?" Andi wanted to know.

"Internet," the two younger women replied in unison. Leena nodded and went on. "There's almost nowhere in the country now where someone can't get online and see what he says in other states."

"And then they realize that he's advocating some of the things they hate, and... boom. There go all those electoral votes."

"Don't tempt the wrath of the whatever," the eldest admonished.

"I'm not," Anne protested.

"Okay."

"I'm not!"

"Uhh..." Leandra waved a hand at the map.

"Right." Anne leaned forward. "Did we get anywhere with that?"

"He can campaign on crime anywhere, and education anywhere."

"And then it all breaks up into regional fun."

"Yeah."

"The platform on poverty should start in the South about two weeks before it does everywhere else."

"With equal or greater emphasis?" Andi wanted to know.

"Equal. The head start should emphasize that the Senator knows it's a serious issue there."

"There's too many," Anne sighed after looking at it for a while.

Leandra hesitated visibly. "Don't think about it; just start writing in the issues. You know where everything goes better than I do; I'm just here for the theoretical stuff."

"You're here for more than that," Wyatt advised, watching Anne scan down the issues list and pick up a pen. Leandra smiled quietly.

"Maybe someday I will be, but I'm not very experienced at this."

"Good," the older woman replied. "You don't think things are impossible yet."

"I'm trying to work here," Anne grumbled. She leaned further over the map, dashing issues abbreviations off suddenly in her quick writing over several states. 'Env-er' sprouted along the Gulf of Mexico, and 'Im' over California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. 'En' sprouted along the states of Tornado Alley, where cleaner energy was all too possible but not as prevalent as they'd thought it would be. In a few minutes the map was a scramble of notations.

"Good thing Mrs. Seaborn's issues are being handled by Ms. Gardner and Ms. Moss," Leandra observed, leaning over.

"They don't bite if you use first names, you know," Anne suggested, blocking off regions and sub-regions now. "In fact, they're less likely to bite if you do use their first names."

"It seems weird." 

"Don't worry about titles so much. We've got bigger issues." Anne sat up and stretched her arms. "Just give it your best shot, and all of that."

* * *

Toby looked over the table at Anne, who had tucked herself calmly into a soft chair and was leaning back, eyes closed.

"What do you think?" Will wanted to know from next to him.

"Shut up."

"Be nice to him," she murmured. "He punched that guy."

"If you're awake, maybe we could proceed," Toby suggested mildly. The former President's granddaughter opened one eye with seeming reluctance, then sighed and sat up a little.

"I don't know what we're doing that Leena and Andi and I didn't hash out last week."

"Please don't use the word 'hash'."

"It's a fun word." 

"I don't care."

"So I've noticed." Anne snagged her notebook and pulled it onto her lap, but still lounged casually on the chair.

"Any chance of integrating health care into the Galileo platforms?" Will asked, referring to his pet project.

"Most people think it's solved," Anne pointed out.

"Most people are forgetting that the provisions run out in less than two years." 

"So you want, what, for them to get poked with a stick? Some electricity maybe?"

"Brief, educational ads," Will started with a sigh.

"Do you have some ready to go?" she retorted.

"I can work on it." 

"Fine," Toby interceded.

"What's our message?" Anne asked suddenly.

"Our message?" Will repeated.

"Yes, Will, our message. The thing that makes everything else go a lot smoother when people like me know it, so I can integrate the message and all of the issues in the states we care about, which right now is all of them!"

"You seem to be doing well without it," Toby noted.

"Thanks, Toby," Anne snorted. "I would do a lot better if I knew what it was we were doing here."

"Do you need something more specific than what you already know?"

Their gazes locked uncomfortably, and after a while Anne sighed.

"I know it's about Galileo, Toby. I know it's about a ten-page memo my grandfather's had for the last fifteen years. I know it's about education. I know it's about doing what's hard and what's right, and I know it's about Seaborn for America. I know we're trying to change the face of American politics, and I know we have every chance of succeeding. But why are we doing it?"

Will gave Toby a slow glance, reluctant to speak.

"Government," Toby finally answered, slow and soft. "Because government should be a place where people come together, Anne. It should be a place where no one gets left behind."

"No one," she echoed softly.

"No one," he affirmed.

"I don't know if I can sell that to over 200 million potential voters." 

"It's what you and Will are here for; I'm just here to harass and annoy." Toby lifted his eyebrows in a fashion that was somehow incredibly ironic. "You have almost a year; I'm sure you'll find something." With that, he stood and went out, closing the door sharply.

"He couldn't have given us something easier to do?" Will wanted to know. "Like repairing the ozone layer? Or making a solar energy breakthrough?" 

"That's been done," Anne reminded. "Two years ago."

"Right. Something else, then, like," he paused and waved his arms around, "curing starvation." 

"Sounds like a good goal to me."

"Where no one gets left behind." Will leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen gently against paper. "No one..."

Anne had closed her eyes again; now she opened them. "If we tackle every issue with the determination we've been taught, Will, then we will have fulfilled that. I don't know if it'll do us any good, but we will have our goal."

Will didn't reply. He had already begun to write, words flowing across the page more smoothly than ink and with more life than a couple of sentences possessed the right to. Unwittingly, he was echoing someone else who had vowed that there be a time when no one was left behind. _'What is relevant is that we all raise our hand and admit we're not fulfilling our promise, that this generation and others may be denied the most essential freedom of knowledge. What is relevant is that we sustain the curiosity and courage and determination that permitted the founding of this country,'_ and his pen started moving more rapidly.

* * *

"I can't believe you came out of retirement," Josh said, reading the article again.

"I didn't," Danny replied gently, setting his mug down and regarding the other two men in the room with quiet eyes. Josh looked up in surprise and set the paper down.

"Why not? The good you could do... Danny..."

Some small joy sparked in the eyes of the former White House correspondent, but he didn't smile, and Will, watching, saw again the quiet withdrawal of the final briefings of the Bartlet administration, the gentle attitude of 'go on without me' of the past year or two as the children grew up more. "I already did good. Two Pulitzers is pretty good."

Josh stared for a second, then snorted with laughter. "Dammit, Danny, you know what I meant."

"Sure I do."

"And you gave us a huge boost."

"A one-time boost, Josh. You know the effect won't be the same a second time around." 

"Yeah, but..." Josh paused in frustration, one hand in his hair.

"A probable impossibility is preferable to an improbable possibility."

"Huh?"

"That," and Danny gestured at the paper, "is a probable impossibility, Josh. And it's not gonna happen again. I was happy to help, but you know and I know and Will knows it was a one-time thing." 

"Josh?" Will queried after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah."

"I think Danny wants to move on from the topic of his improbably possible return to print media and the possibilities of... something." He turned to the silver-haired former reporter. "Something?"

"The Mets had a good season."

"They did not..." 

"Something else?" Will begged in despair, anticipating another argument on an already well-trodden subject. 

Josh looked at Danny, a question in his eyes.

"You guys know what you're doing; what do you need me for?" he answered.

"Some of us think we let you down," Josh responded lightly, shrugging, belying the intensity of his eyes. 

"Even if you did, it was a long time ago, and I've been helping Sam."

"Yeah, but I still..."

"Josh. It's okay. Just give me a chance to punch the little thing next to Seaborn/whoever, and I'll be happy. Or whatever it is they do for ballots now..."

"You've got yourself a deal," he assented. "Will, let's get this show on the road." 

"It's on the road," Will replied in bemusement, standing with Josh.

Josh grinned, an expression that took years off his face. "You ain't seen nothing yet, buddy. Let's go."

* * *

"Would you like the barbequing fundraiser to be before or after the one with the carved ice?"

Mallory looked over at Josh. "This is the level of scheduling we're reduced to now?"

Josh didn't respond directly, instead addressing Margaret. "People barbeque in the winter?" he wanted to know. She glanced down, lips tightening in embarrassment. 

"No. They do, however, hold extremely large outdoor cooking festivals to test their skill with cooking chickens in a wide variety of spices."

"Where is this?"

"We're on the Midwest."

"Where in the Midwest?" Mal demanded, almost crankily.

"Nebraska."

"And the ice thing is in Minnesota, right?" Margaret nodded vigorously. "Okay."

"Mal, if we don't have this down..." Josh started gently. She turned to him, an expression that might well have been her father's on her usually lovely face.

"Shut up, Josh."

"Mallory..." 

"I'm about ready to kick your ass and Sam's into next year."

"Might I suggest the year after that?" Margaret wondered. "Next year isn't really very far away." Mallory turned to her, anger fading a little but annoyance still present, and smiled a little.

"I'll think about it. But who decided it was a good idea for me to be setting all these dates? And are there any issues here, or are we going to be endlessly debating when the best time to eat slow-broiled yellow-necked grouse is?"

"I don't think there's one of those, but if you want one..." Josh responded mildly.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"You did, but I'm ignoring that."

"Why?" Mallory folded her arms and stared at him. Margaret busied herself with reordering and straightening all the sheets of paper she was holding.

"Because we both know you're just frustrated. And 'cause I'm here to give Sam his shot at winning, and so are you, and you knew it was going to be annoying, trivial, occasionally condescending, and sometimes just weird when you signed up for this."

"I didn't know I was going to be choosing the order of fundraisers, for crying out loud, Josh!"

"So?" He shrugged. "Pick one. It doesn't matter. We're gonna make money anyway... although if you actually want carved ice at the one in Minnesota, I think you have to wait until January or something."

She relaxed a little. "Isn't that cutting it pretty close to the traditional primaries?"

"We don't care about the traditional primaries."

"And here I thought you said a minute ago you were here to give Sam his best shot at winning," she retorted.

"Okay, we do care about them, but not so much that we focus on them. We're about fifty states, not just the two that have the oldest primaries."

For a moment, Mallory didn't say anything, then her eyes narrowed. "You want the Wisconsin primary," she half-accused.

"I do." 

Mal turned to Margaret, whose efficient fingers were aligning her small stack of paper with quick taps. "Margaret?" 

"Yes?"

"Can we do the ice thing on January 16?"

There was a small pause while Margaret quirked an intrigued eyebrow at her, then lifted her paper to consult her master schedule. "Sam can, but you have that school thing." 

"I thought the school thing was in the morning." 

"It is."

"Why can't I do both?" 

"Because it'd involve extremely precise travel coordination in the middle of winter?"

"Mallory, it's okay if it's just Sam, don't tempt the wrath of the whatever-" Josh started. She shook her head.

"It's what I'm here for; why do you think we had to keep changing campaign staff in California? Margaret, put us both in for the ice thing on January 16."

"And the chicken thing?"

Mallory gazed off thoughtfully. "Put that down for the thirteenth. Get back to me, not Sam, if it doesn't work out."

"You sure about this?" Josh checked.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure. Margaret?"

"Yes?" Still writing, Margaret glanced up at her through a line of reddish bangs.

"Do we have a map for this?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." She fished it out from the pile and unfolded it before handing it over. Mallory's fiery head bent over it for a minute.

"I want a copy of this as is and a copy with state events on it, with the dates of the primaries as well. Before you give that copy to me, I want your best guess on when to have the events. Can you handle all that, Margaret?"

"When do you need it?" 

Mallory quirked an eyebrow in thought before responding. "Three days."

"I can have it for you in two days, unless I run into scheduling problems when I'm working with Amy and Josh on the platform schedule tonight." Mal immediately turned to Josh in response.

"Don't give Margaret scheduling problems, Josh."

"I never mean to." 

"Well, don't."

"Maybe." 

"Please?" she asked, with a sigh he knew well. 

"I'll do my best. Can I pull someone in to help Margaret if I do give her scheduling problems?"

"First of all, since when do you need my permission for that, and second, who would it be?"

"I don't exactly need your permission, that's true, but this is your schedule and Sam's schedule and I didn't think you'd want anybody playing with it without your knowledge, and I was thinking of Donna. She doesn't get to schedule much anymore."

"Doesn't Donna have other things?" she observed.

"Yeah, but," he shrugged, "sometimes she gets tired of those things and just wants to organize. And it's not like she can't work with Margaret."

"Why don't you use Huck?" she asked, placing her elbow on the back of the seat and letting her fingers brace against one cheek in a fashion she'd almost certainly picked up from Huck's mother.

"Huck Wyatt?"

"Is there another Huck you know?" 

"There's fourteen in this county, actually," Margaret put in without looking up. They both stared at her, and with that she did glance up and shrug. "Sorry. The calorie count in the raisin muffins from the mess is still wrong."

"Thanks for letting us know, Margaret," Mallory sighed, eyes sparkling with affection, and turned back to Josh. "Well?"

"He's fourteen years old."

"How old are Sam and Al?" 

"That wasn't fair."

"How was it not fair, Josh?" He looked frustrated for another long minute, then visibly relented.

"Okay. You're right. I just... it seems weird to have all these kids, you know?"

"Thanks, Josh." Mallory smiled warmly. "Good luck with the rest of the scheduling."

"Thanks, I'll need it," he answered with a quiet, worried frustration.

* * *

"Tell them I need the governor's office first thing tomorrow morning," Josh directed later that day, opening the door. "And get the Montana delegation together tonight--Ow!" 

"You okay?" Amy and Margaret could hear Anne question from the larger office.

"Which governor's office?" a puzzled voice followed it immediately. Josh, still rubbing his shoulder, rolled his eyes.

"Poor guy," Amy muttered to the wide-eyed Margaret, who was watching Josh rub his abused shoulder.

"Alaska, who do you think?" Josh retorted. They could practically hear people ducking.

"Um, Pennsylvania?" the same voice guessed again after a long pause. 

"Better. But I meant another swing state." 

"Michigan?"

"Yep." Josh turned to them with a long-suffering expression. "Anne, don't send one of our lefties out there to talk to them, whatever you do."

"All I've got is lefties," she retorted.

"Find the rightest staffer we've got, then, give them a crash course, and ship them out there."

"Josh, it's a phone call. To a Congressional delegation of one or something."

"Did I say Montana?"

"Yes."

"I meant..." he rubbed his face, looking tired. Amy stood and strode to the door.

"Anne, check his notes and see which delegation he really meant; I'm sure he got one of the letters right... if you can't find it by the time we're done, we'll have Margaret find it."

"Josh meant South Dakota," came the sudden prompt from the other woman. Josh straightened in response.

"Yes! That was it. I knew it was one of those western states. Yeah, Anne, do the thing for that, will you?" She waved a hand at him.

"Have your meeting, will you? We can handle this for a while. It's not even busy."

"Thanks." He waved back in a vague fashion and closed the door, leaning up against it.

"You okay?" Amy asked with concern. Josh rubbed his hands over his face wearily.

"All these new people... it's like trying to get Congress to cooperate." 

"Doesn't sound that hard," she lobbed back promptly. His mouth quirked into a slight smile.

"Yeah, fair point. It's just that they don't know what they're doing, and I want them to know what they're doing, 'cause they're smart and they want to win. The lack of having a clue is kind of distracting, though."

"Josh, what exactly are you worried about? If they're not fast enough to pick it up in a few weeks, you let 'em go. You've got enough time for that."

He opened one eye and looked at her. "What's the date?"

"November 10, 2017," Margaret replied promptly. "It's 8:32 PM." 

"Oh. We have almost a year?"

"You got ahead of yourself a little, didn't you, Josh?"

"Yeah," he confessed, looking at her with a small and awkward smile.

"You looked a little too frazzled for almost a year out," she agreed, stepping up to him and touching one cheek lightly with her fingertips. "Go home for the night, Josh. Margaret and I can handle the scheduling; there's nothing so urgent that we can't check the few things we can't handle together with you tomorrow or even the day after that."

Josh eyed the schedule in Margaret's hand with a hurt look. "I don't want to let him down." 

"You won't. Go home." Close enough to hear the pattern of Josh's breathing, Amy suddenly brushed her hand across his forehead. "Josh, you're a little warm."

"Am I?" he wondered, tiredly pinching his nose.

"Margaret?" Amy checked, half-turning. "Is this-"

"I don't know," she denied, shaking her head vigorously. "He hasn't said anything to me."

"Call Donna. We'll send one of the kids home with the car or something."

There was a knock on the door, and before either woman could protest, it swung open to reveal Carol.

"Anne gave me a call earlier and said things were getting tangled. What's up?"

"What's wrong with Josh?" Amy asked her. Carol's eyes immediately shifted to study him, and she stepped further into the room.

"Why are you asking me? I just got here."

"Because you have the look of an educated woman," Amy replied, voice tight. Brow furrowed, Carol stepped forward to take Josh's wrist.

"I'll take him home," she said after a minute, swallowing.

"You didn't tell me what's wrong with him."

"That's because I don't know." Amy shot her a look. "I don't! I know it has to do with Rosslyn and I know that Donna knows, and I know a few things to watch for, Amy, but I really don't know." 

"Whatever. But could you please tell Donna I'd like to talk to her about this later?" Carol nodded reluctantly.

"I don't think you'll be the only one. I only know now because we got so close in the White House." Gently, she took Josh's arm. "Josh? Come on, let's go home."

"I heard every word, you know," he grumbled, stepping away from the wall.

"See you tomorrow, Josh," Margaret told him with forced cheer. He stopped and turned back. Carol closed her eyes worriedly and let loose a small huff of exasperation.

"Right now, it's called situational hypertension," he told them. "That's what it's called right now. Thanks to Donna and Abbey and an attentive doctor, that's all it's called right now, and if we're lucky, that's all it'll ever be called."

Margaret's eyes were huge, and Amy's were dark pools of understanding.

"Have a good night, Josh," she said softly. A smile ghosted across his face.

"You too. I know what I'm doing. See you tomorrow."

Amy waited a full minute after the door closed before she spun to face Margaret, whose face was anxious. "You look like you could use something to do."

"That's usually best," she responded with forced calm.

"Do you still have the list?"

"Um... yeah." Margaret flipped through the pile and gave it to her. "Should we be working on this right now?"

Their eyes met. "I don't know about you, but what happened just now inspired me to make things go as smoothly as possible for Josh."

"Yeah." Margaret sighed. "I was going to say," she started, "that Sam should distribute the nature of his stops equally."

"How do you mean?"

"Don't you think it makes more sense to have him deliver a speech on the importance of careful logging practices on a site that was restored, or is being restored by careful logging practices, rather than having him make it from in front of a town hall or something?"

"He's not doing that already on his own?"

"We're not very far along yet. And this was never an issue in just, you know, California." 

"Sounds good to me," Amy affirmed. "Let's work on this for as long as we can before I have to go out there and handle the thing with the governor."

Margaret smiled widely in relief, though a tinge of nervousness remained. "Good. That's great. So... by state, or by issue?"


	38. We're Here For Whatever You Need II

_We're Here For Whatever You Need, Part II_

"So Josh is all right?"

Sam looked over at his wife, who looked back with worried eyes. "Yeah. He was just being unusually Josh-like in the busy with the job sense of the phrase. Donna glared at him and made him play with the kids and sent him to bed. He's fine." As if in assurance of that, he picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip while examining yet another schedule.

"So what was wrong with him?" Her husband's eyes were vaguely frustrated when he looked up. "Not the funny way, Sam. You know what I mean."

"Nothing that hasn't been coming since he got shot, Mallory. Donna and Abbey between them got it under control pretty good, but they hadn't watched him as closely the past couple of weeks, thinking that since there's so much time left, Josh wouldn't be quite as..." he stopped and shrugged. "Obsessed with getting me there." 

"This isn't going to be a thing, is it?" she demanded tiredly.

"I don't think so, no, but that's not usually a good indicator, as everyone knows," he replied, a small smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"Smartass." 

This time, his eyes were dancing when he looked over. "Not here, Mal."

She swallowed a giggle. "No, of course not. This would be a good time for Josh to come in, though." 

"Before we get ourselves in trouble? Yeah." Nevertheless, neither spoke for the next couple of minutes, until Josh knocked on the door and let himself in.

"Morning." 

"Morning, Josh," Sam replied from the depths of the scattered papers he was examining on the table and a mouthful of a second breakfast.

"Good morning, Josh," Mallory greeted, rising. "How are you feeling this morning?" 

"Good. I feel good." He smiled and went to close the door; it moved a few inches and then stopped. Donna's face appeared around the edge of it, looking slightly strained.

"You're more trouble than all five of the kids put together, did you know that? Try to remember you've got 51 weeks instead of 5.1 before the election. Mal, Sam, I'll be back in about half an hour. Keep him away from the coffee and make sure he has something vaguely healthy to eat." Without waiting, she crisply closed the door.

"I detect the vague threat of Donna possibly kicking your ass, Josh," Sam mused, shuffling the papers together.

"Yeah." 

"Tea or water, Josh?" Mallory inquired.

"Mal, you don't have to-"

"Tea or water?"

"Water, please."

"All right. We're supposed to be talking about what events and speeches Sam and I can appear at together, and which ones we'll be attending separately, right?"

"Right." 

"I think that'll be pretty well solved at this stage by working out the event and campaign stop schedule, don't you?" 

"You had us meet on this before the schedules are done?" Sam asked. "Josh... have you been letting anyone do anything?" 

"Margaret's been doing the schedule, and other people have been answering the phones," he replied, looking somewhat befuddled. Mallory brought the water back and set it and a bagel down next to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek as she did so. "Thanks, Mal."

"You're welcome," she answered, seating herself again. "Josh, I think we should give the schedule a couple of days and then meet again."

"I agree," Sam put in, tapping his pen on the table. "Give it a few days, get reorganized back down from last-minute mode, let the new people start working the way they should be allowed to, and come back after the weekend or so. We're not going to lose the momentum Danny's piece and the ad flood gave us, Josh."

"I want to have it," Josh responded plaintively. Sam smiled gently at his friend of three decades, remembering what Jed had told him after the first strategy session last year.

_'Josh and Leo are kindred spirits, Sam; father and son, mentor and student. They'll do anything to protect you, anything to be the guy that the guy counts on. But that also means that they'll run themselves into the ground for you, and give the last full measure of devotion for that which they think is right. Josh will do for you what CJ did fifteen years ago, and more than that, because that's the only way he knows to honor her and her actions. Part of being the guy is drawing the line and taking some of the burden.'_ Sam had nodded slowly, looking at the posters drafted by CJ's children and aware that Josh would feel compelled to take on their burdens too.

Now, his fingers traced the Seaborn for America design at the top of a schedule. "You will, Josh," he answered softly. "You will, and it will be like nothing the country has ever seen. But you've got to let everyone else do it, too, because otherwise it won't carry that full meaning."

Josh looked over at him, and Sam could see a trace of tears in his eyes, as Mallory watched them play out part of a conversation that had been coming for fifteen years. "I want you to count on me."

"I do. I also want you to count on other people."

"If there's a fall, it's mine to take. Not theirs."

"I decide that, Josh. You know I do." Sam paused. "Before I ran for the House, you told me that there was nothing I could do that wouldn't make you proud."

"Yeah. I did."

"Part of what will make this unique is my willingness to share the risks." 

"Sam, I'm here to protect you from whatever crap gets cooked up and thrown your way!"

Mallory stifled a gasp. Sam's lips parted slightly, but he hesitated only an instant. 

"You're not CJ."

Josh swallowed, but persisted. "You're right, I'm not. But you didn't maybe see this coming, Sam? You have to let me do this!"

"No, I don't. I don't have to let you do it alone."

"You can't let these kids take that kind of risk."

"It's what they're here for, Josh. Every single one of them is here because they believe, and they believe in the risk, and you're one of the people who taught them that. Don't deprive the next generation of this country's political minds of the chance to truly change the world because you're convinced you should have done something more than what you did!"

"They can't wreck their political careers this young; that wouldn't be right!" 

"They're more likely to wreck it if you keep protecting them, Josh. Why else would you have tried to get the four kids to convince me to let them help?"

"I'm still supposed to protect them."

"Josh, you can't protect them any longer. Sam and Al may only be fifteen, but they know, and you can't protect them from knowledge, and you've never wanted to. And even if Huck and CJ didn't know, it still wouldn't be your responsibility or your choice to try to protect them."

"What are you saying?" Josh questioned, an odd look on his face.

"They know about the polls."

"What polls?"

"The polls."

It finally registered. Josh put one hand over his heart. "You didn't," he whispered.

"I didn't," Sam agreed. "Carol did, on CJ's instructions, at CJ's request, at the request of Samantha and Abigail. And you know what, Josh? She, and they, were right to do so, just as the twins were right to tell Huck and CJ later." Josh shook his head vigorously, looking shocked. "Al said, then, that I raised them to believe in the impossible, what was right and what must be done. Sam quoted CJ to me, that it was going to be truly a sight to see. And then," his voice caught, "she asked me how I could ask them not to continue the belief CJ had in me. And Claudia, at last, said, 'But sometimes, you have to know the whole truth before you can commit to something, because only then do you know what you're really believing in.'"

Mallory looked down, tears dripping onto her hands, hearing again the ghost of CJ's voice through her children. _You can do this, Mal. You can._

Josh's lips parted, and he sat frozen for a long, long moment. "I will," he vowed quietly, "fulfill that determination and belief and hope." Sam looked over at him, wordless. "And I will do it with the team, Sam. For the whole truth."

They stood, wrapping each other in a long embrace full of promises present and future, all unspoken but with all the force the human spirit can bring to bear.

"Come on," Mallory suggested when they at last pulled apart. "Let's get you back to Donna before you get in trouble."

"Yeah," Josh agreed. They slowly went down the hallway, emerging into mild chaos.

"Your move," Sam prodded gently.

"Will and Anne, could I have you for a minute, please?" Josh called. Will emerged from a slice of quiet office across the room, and Anne straightened and detached herself from what appeared to be an argument about Kansas. 

"What can we do for you?" Anne asked, after Will had nodded at Josh in greeting, clearly writing something in his head.

Sam smiled a little at Josh, in a silent, 'I told you so', and Josh smiled at the two of them. A team... the whole truth, and hope, and belief, and determination, and the impossible.

"Can you get the staff together?"

"Sure. When do you need them?" Josh immediately shook his head.

"Not for me. I want you two to meet with them and discuss our message and how we're going to break it down over the next few months, and make sure Sam's stump speeches are ready for at least the next six weeks." 

It was hard to see, but Will smiled and nodded. "Right. When do you need that by?" Anne wanted to know.

"First thing Monday?" he suggested.

"Sure thing. Who'll be running the meeting?"

"The two of you. Get Carol if the schedule looks busy." Anne blinked, then nodded.

"Right. Have a good day, Josh."

"You too," he returned, smiling.

"Sam, Mallory," Will greeted, as Anne watched Josh walk off in search of Donna. "Anything we can get for you right now?"

"We're good," Sam answered, wrapping one arm around Mallory. "I've got a thing. See you later."

* * *

"Morning," Justin greeted with unnatural cheer. 

"Good morning, Mr. Happy," Anne retorted. "Have a seat."

"I hope you brought something to write with," Will recommended as the younger man pulled a chair closer and sat down.

"Um, yeah." He brushed back dark blond hair in frustration as he bent his head to hunt through his bag for the tools of his primary trade. "I've been meaning to get this stuff cut..."

"Because you look so great with a crew cut?" Mike smirked from the doorway. Justin glanced up long enough to glower back before absorbing himself in making sure all of his pens and pencils were working.

"You know," Will said casually, "given your name, we were expecting you to be the one with the crew cut."

Mike grinned impishly and touched her long hair, neatly pulled back in a bun. "Yeah. But I think I did something to impress Sam, so he kind of pulled me in without consulting Josh and Toby."

"I still feel weird using their first names," Leandra said as she walked in, followed by Marcus.

"No reason to," Justin said calmly. "Except for Will and Anne, you've known them the longest, or at least you've known Toby the longest." Leandra lifted an eyebrow at him as Marcus tentatively took a seat on the outside of the rough circle they were forming.

"I've always considered that a reason to address them formally, so I won't be accused of taking advantage of my prior acquaintance. But," she admitted, "I take your point. It's hard to let go of the awe, though."

"Toby would be shocked and appalled if he knew you were in awe of him," Will told her. "Marcus, feel free to sit a bit closer."

"Sorry." 

"Don't apologize, everybody's unsure at first," Mike told him, turning. "I think that's why Sam liked me, actually."

"He likes you because you get it done, you're not afraid to tell him the ugly truth, like having lost the vote of an entire segment of the California population, and because you bring a perspective he knows he's missing," Anne informed her. "Sit down and try not to annoy Justin too much. You're going to be doing a lot of writing with him."

"That's true," she admitted. "My ethnicity does have something to do with it. But help the person from the opposition who brings it up!"

"The token thing?" Marcus asked tentatively. Mike nodded vigorously. "I worry about that too, actually."

"I'll be more than happy to take care of it for all of us," she told him. Leena surveyed her.

"You remind me a lot of Toby," she told the older woman, who turned, dark eyes alight.

"I think that's the other reason Sam likes me, aside from all the reasons Anne just cited. Anyway... we're writing?" She snagged a pad of paper and a pen from a nearby desk and sat down next to Justin.

"Yeah," Will agreed, adjusting his glasses. "Stump speeches for six weeks and message breakdown for the next three to four months. Et cetera." 

"Who are we waiting for?" Justin asked after a short pause.

"Lisa and Rich."

"Oh. Right."

Marcus looked around. "This seems like a lot of people already."

"Oh, this is a small meeting," Will answered with a straight face. "Really small. And very slow-paced and calm." Marcus eyed him skeptically.

"Really?"

"Yes," Will and Mike answered in concert. Anne smiled a bit.

"I wouldn't know from direct experience or anything, but from what I've heard, you'd better make sure you're caught up on sleep and food. You're not gonna have time for either from June or so on." 

"Probably earlier than that," Mike suggested. "Sam has busy campaigns." She turned to her writing partner. "Justin, do you want to cowrite, or try a regional split?" He shrugged. 

"See how it goes?"

"Okay. We're going to have to figure it out sometime in the next few weeks, though." 

"Don't mind me," Carol said as they all faced her. "I'm just watching; Sam was a little worried that things were still kind of..." she waved her free arm, "confused from Josh getting busy with stuff."

"Morning, Rich," Anne greeted the man on Carol's other arm.

"Good morning, Anne." Rich carefully detached himself. "What's been moved?"

"Just about everything," Will said apologetically. Rich chuckled wryly.

"Don't worry about it, Will. This isn't my first campaign. At least the desks are still here." He moved with caution until he found an empty seat with armrests; five previous campaigns had taught him to always have something to hold onto in case he started getting excited during a staff meeting.

"I'll just be over here; ignore me unless something goes wrong," Carol directed, sitting at a desk some distance away from them and opening a folder.

"What're the chances of that?" Mike asked her with cheerful sarcasm. 

"We've got plenty of time. I predict this meeting will go quite smoothly."

"And then nothing else will go smoothly ever again?"

"Something like that. You expect anything different?" Carol mock-challenged. Mike laughed. 

"I know better after working with you and Sam." 

"Hey, guys, sorry," Lisa greeted hastily as she came in. "I'm here. What're we doing?"

"A lot," Anne answered. "Find a seat and we'll get started divvying things up."

"That's a fine word, divvying," Justin murmured from his seat. Mike cheerfully poked him. "It is."

"Okay," Will directed. "There are going to be some changes; Margaret's still working on the schedule, I think. However, we'll be assigning things and making determinations based on the idea that Sam's going to be in a different place almost every day. For those of you not familiar with a national or Presidential campaign, there are likely to be at least three or four different copies of the schedule floating around at any given time. Make sure you have the right one, and make sure you're on time when you're scheduled to depart with the campaign bus or whatever we use. Just to give you a taste of what this is going to be like, Josh is expecting six weeks worth of stump speeches and the message breakdown at least the next three months on Monday morning." He paused, watching for signs of wide-eyed panic; the reactions so far ranged from nervousness to amusement.

"Excuse us," Sam and Al said, looking in. Will glanced over and nodded in greeting.

"Hey. You two need anything?"

"May we watch?" Sam asked.

"Sure." Will turned back to the rest of the campaign staff. "You all know Samantha and Abigail?"

"Hey, girls," Mike waved. "Trying out for the big leagues?" she teased gently.

"Um, yeah, whatever," Al answered, rolling her eyes. "I think we're pretty well versed in the big leagues. For, you know, better or worse."

"Oh," Will added. "If you're having trouble with a regional issue breakdown, Al can help out. If you need a statistic, find Sam."

_Now_ there were looks of wide-eyed... well, not panic; uncomprehending stares would have been a better description. Will suppressed a sigh, and Anne looked somewhat frustrated.

"You're the youngest campaign staff ever for a serious Presidential campaign with a major party," she chided the room at large. "Sam and Al know their stuff; you've all been on this long enough to know Josh's response if you think having fifteen year olds working on Seaborn for America is silly."

"Sorry," Lisa said first. "It's just... I don't know, I'm 36 and I'm used to being the youngest person."

"I'm good," Justin responded promptly. "We don't know what's impossible yet, right?" 

"Right," Anne smiled back.

"A long way from Chicago, Sam," Leandra smiled. Sam smiled back, soft blue eyes tilting in her direction.

"Asking questions anytime, Leena?" The smile turned to a grin.

"Absolutely." 

There was an odd pause after this. Finally, Rich shifted and held up his hands.

"Don't look at me," he laughed. Over at her desk, Carol smiled quietly to herself, glad they'd been able to bring him on board.

"Anyway," Will tried to pick up, "you're all going to have a busy weekend, and this is one of the few times when we'll all be able to actually meet like this; everything else is going to be shouted to everyone at large in a regional office, or via memo. Anne is the regional coordinator; I'm the senior communications director, or whatever it is. Sam's the candidate, Josh is in charge of the campaign, and Carol makes sure nobody does anything crazy. Let's start with everyone's favorite, free trade."

It was midafternoon before they finally finished taking apart the last major issue and assigning speech sections to it. As they picked up their things, stretching tiredly, Anne called out a reminder.

"Don't forget the thing next Friday, everybody. Casual dress, come prepared to eat and call everybody by their first names."

"Just us?" Marcus asked quietly.

"Mostly it's for the campaign staff and families, but if you've got someone you'd like to bring that won't be scared off by the political talk, sure," Anne shrugged at him in response. "Speaking of which, this can all take an awful amount of time away from everything that's not work." 

"I have stories to back that up," Rich offered into the subsequent tide of awkward chuckling.

"Listen to him," Anne directed. "I'm just speaking from the stories I've heard."

Lisa waved her hand. "Okay if I bring my girlfriend?"

Over at the desk, Carol raised thoughtful eyebrows. Mike and Justin both seemed to tense a little, but Will and Anne just exchanged a glance before shrugging in concert.

"Sure. See you guys later," Anne answered. 

If possible, the six staffers filing out of the room looked even more confused than they had ten minutes ago.

* * *

"John."

John Hoynes tilted his head a little and surveyed the man he still sometimes thought of as his usurper. "Jed, I like Sam Seaborn, don't get me wrong. But..." he paused and shook his silver-topped head. "I don't know." 

"Who would you endorse if you didn't endorse Sam?" Leo asked of him from the depths of a soft chair. "Morrison? Frederick? Townsend? Another run for Jamieson?"

He lifted one hand. "Jamieson's done, Leo; anybody can see that. But my endorsing Sam is somewhat akin to one of you endorsing Mareille."

"Do I have to make the party unity argument, John?" Jed wondered. Hoynes shook his head.

"It wouldn't help in any case, Jed. I think the answer to your question is that I wouldn't endorse anybody, reluctant as I am to withhold whatever power I may have left over from my Vice Presidency." He sighed. "I don't suppose you've got a VP short list to help me out?" Leo shook his head.

"It's early for that yet."

"I may have to think about it."

"If nothing else, John," Leo pointed out, "you owe us." 

Hoynes met his eyes. "I was wondering," he said with wry cynicism, "when you were going to bring that up, Leo." 

"It was inevitable, John," Jed persuaded. "Well, not inevitable, but you can't blame us for pointing out that you do, in fact, owe us."

John smiled. "Even though my owing you is often attributed as the cause of three terms' worth of a Republican White House?"

"Yeah." The former President's steady expression didn't waver.

John Hoynes glanced aside to the former Chief of Staff. "All right. I'm in." He paused. "This is going to be something, isn't it?"

The grins on their faces made them look like they'd never been through the last twenty years. "Like nothing you've ever seen before or dreamed of seeing in a Presidential election," Leo replied, still smiling with the same hopeful eyes he'd used to bring an uncertain staff together. "Welcome aboard."

* * *

Josh always wondered why the chill of November made him think of CJ. A sharp gust tugged on his long coat, and he sighed and lifted his gaze from the hardening ground.

"It's because this is when all of us should have realized what was going on," Sam said softly from behind him. His face was reflective, vulnerable, showing no sign that he, junior Senator from California, had just persuaded a former Vice President and three state caucuses to support his bid for the Presidency, a bid that had been born in bitter pain and blood, in a confident touch and glance.

"You think so?" Toby questioned, too softly.

"Toby," Josh said, very gently. A sigh whispered behind him.

"Yeah." 

"Do you have the stuff memorized?" Sam wanted to know, trying to sound light. In the back of his mind, he could see CJ crying the tears she had never shed, the tears that had only been shed through her daughters, years too late for CJ herself.

"Nah," Josh told him. "We'll be fine, though."

Toby eyed the other skeptically as he took his gloves off and ruffled through papers in time with the wind. "Okay."

Sam looked at the other two. "Is it a problem if we sit down?" Josh looked at him and then at Toby, who shrugged.

"I don't know. If it's a problem, we'll be the first to know." Sam lowered himself to sit with his shoulder brushing granite and waited while the other two followed suit.

"Josh?"

"Yeah, I'm getting it." Josh breathed on his fingers and resumed his work on the papers, finally tugging out a set of bar graphs, most of them showing good news.

The air changed.

They all heard it, like a slow exhale of relief, a hint of warmth. Josh froze and looked up, and Sam's eyes widened, jumping away from the stone a little bit as something surged.

Toby closed his eyes for a long moment, visibly relaxing.

"Um," Josh started. 

"It's all right, Josh." The younger man looked over at Toby, who just nodded minutely. "It's okay."

"Um." He paused again, scanning. "We need help with the Midwest, but only in the sense of we're not as far ahead as we'd like. The Northeast is on board, but I don't know if that can be attributed to Jed and Leo or to the fact that large parts of your platform are more like what they like. And the West seems to like you, for some reason, or at least most of it does."

"Is that the good news?" Sam asked him.

"Pretty much," his best friend affirmed with a smile that wasn't quite his. "We're likely to win or place a close second in almost every primary, and we're working on how to win the ones for which that's not true." 

"Excellent. What's the bad news?"

"The South isn't very fond of you, Sam."

Sam's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I think I guessed that."

"Josh, poll again in a few weeks after Hoynes' endorsement has had time to help him out," Toby directed.

"Am I single digit anywhere?" Sam checked.

"No."

"Teens?" 

"Eight states."

"Twenties?" 

"Ten states."

"Thirties?" 

"Six."

"Forties?"

"Ten." 

"Above fifty?"

"Everything else?" Josh answered, quirking one brow at his friend, who chuckled. 

"Yeah. Sorry. That's great, Josh." Sam shifted. "You know, I don't know what else to talk about out here, since we never really seem to finish the conversations."

Toby's eyes shifted to the gravestone. "Maybe that's because the conversation is never complete, and we... we can't ignore it here." Josh tightened his lips and looked down.

"Yeah." He gusted out a sigh and stuck the papers back in their folder. "Yeah..."

Sam stood, hearing at least one joint pop in annoyance as he did so. "And yet, Toby, I get the feeling that the incomplete conversation is what's been keeping us whole." Toby's dark eyes locked on his in affirmation as he, too, stood. 

"I'm going to get ready for the thing," Josh said. 

Sam wrapped himself more tightly in his coat. "I'll be there in a minute." Too understanding, Josh and Toby moved away toward the cars, leaving Sam alone with a powerful, joyful surge of determination.

"Your girls are graduating high school in a couple of weeks, you know," he finally said quietly. "Honors and all of that. And then, uh, you know..." he floundered for a second. "I think they're doing a semester, full time, and then part time in the summer. I'd tell them they were delaying their education for the campaign, but it seems a little ridiculous to tell that to anybody graduating high school two and a half years early." Sam's voice abruptly caught, breaking, and he swept a hand over his face. "God, CJ... I wish I knew we were all doing the right thing. I'm more afraid of having done the wrong thing for Samantha and Abigail than I am of anything else, even letting you down next November. You told me I could do this, you left the thing for Sam and Al, the whole truth and the impossible, and yet..." he paused, face turned momentarily skyward, tears glistening, "I'm scared I'm going to screw up, at the same time that I'm confident and determined that we, that I, can do this. How could you have placed this much trust in me?" He placed his hand lightly on top of the granite, twinkling softly in the weakened fall sun.

CJ's words echoed around him again, as if they were forged yesterday, yet in an endlessly ancient whisper, so that it never mattered whether Sam, who had thought himself free of this particular pain and worry for years, truly heard them or not. And hearing them, he straightened, feeling determination flow through him again and understanding how belief could run up through Al's eloquent voice. 

"I don't trust you to run for anything and win, Sam. I trust you to run for anything and believe in the right things."

* * *

It was only a matter of time before the inevitable. 

"Which one is the updated one?" Al asked Margaret. 

"The pale green."

"And does the order in which the other ones are obsolete especially matter?" 

Margaret paused to think for a moment. "Not really, no. Although if you wanted to, you could collect them in order. Blue, yellow, pink, orange, red, purple, ivory."

Sam pinched her nose and smiled wryly at her aunt. "And then we could tell people which ones they're missing, of the schedules that are already out of date?"

"And then you could use them for... something." Margaret eyed their expressions. "I guess not, huh?"

Al smiled back. "No."

"It must be nice for Josh and Donna to have an early night," Margaret suggested as they distributed green sheets liberally among the desks and cubicles. Sam nodded vigorously.

"I think Joanie and Josiah really appreciated it... probably more than Uncle Josh and Aunt Donna, actually. And this is probably the last weekend Uncle Sam and Aunt Mallory will have with both of them and Zach and Joy in the same house, or even the same state..."

Al chuckled. "Everybody's taking an early night. Even Lisa; she's usually here late, even on Sundays."

"I don't know why she feels like she has to work harder," Sam wondered. "And, I mean, ahh..."

"You don't understand why she might be trying to spend less time around her girlfriend?" Margaret finished. Sam nodded. "I don't know, either."

"You have some ideas, but you don't want to tell us?" Al asked, head tilted. Margaret's expression changed to one of resignation.

"More or less."

Sam's ordinarily quiet face suddenly pinched in mild frustration, and Margaret mentally ducked; for all that Al was ordinarily the more talkative, eloquent, and persuasive, it was her sister who often delivered the final blow in debates and arguments. This time, though, as she continued to move around a corner to drop more schedules off, her eyes widened.

"Aunt Margaret!"

"What is it?"

Sam didn't answer; she'd already tossed the papers onto the nearest surface and scrambled for a phone. "Al, can you..."

The second sister's reaction was even more noticeable; her jaw dropped visibly, and it took her a moment to start searching for the volume control, even with Sam gesturing at her.

Margaret finally came within range of the television, turned as always to some kind of news, and stepped back a little bit in shock.

"Tonight, the surprise story is coming from the previously calm waters of Senator Sam Seaborn's past. New documents provided by an unknown source close to the campaign claim that-"

"Aunt Donna?" Sam raked one hand through her hair, for a second looking astoundingly like her mother in a crisis even though there were tears in her eyes. "Can you ask Josh when the muffins are getting here?" 

"-with former colleague Claudia Jean Cregg, who unfortunately died at their birth. This new information is remarkable in that it nearly says-"

At home, Donna rounded the corner, interrupting her husband and youngest son. "Josh? Sam needs a muffin arrival time."

"Tell him we're good."

"No, Josh, Samantha needs to know when the muffins are getting here." At that, Josh stilled completely, almost not noticing as Josiah went off balance. Absently, he caught the boy and set him on the couch. "Where?"

"Phone." 

"Sam?" Josh asked worriedly.

"TV, Uncle Josh." Her voice caught audibly over the phone. Josh rotated until he made eye contact with Donna and gestured at the television. Her eyes widened and she flipped it on, moving to a news channel when the default C-SPAN didn't show anything.

It was a different channel, but the words were almost the same. "-her death was not due to complications, but because the Bartlet administration could not suffer another scandal, as two staffers having an affair would have been, hurting their reelection chances." The old head shots of CJ and Sam at one corner of the screen filled in the rest.

If it had been less serious, Josh would have laughed bitterly at how close it was to the truth, that CJ had indeed died for the sake of preventing another scandal to Jed Bartlet's Presidency. As it was, his stomach churned with fury. "Sam, what was on before-"

"A source close to the campaign is claiming that we're Uncle Sam's biological daughters," she replied, a little more calmly than before.

"Shit." Josh paused. "Who's with you?"

"Al and Aunt Margaret."

"Okay, are you okay?"

"Um, mostly? What kind of a question is that?" she demanded.

"All right. Sorry." Josh drew a deep breath. "Are you the only ones there?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, finish whatever it is you're doing, lock _everything_ up, and come here."

"Okay. Just a second." Sam tucked the phone under her chin. "We're supposed to finish up and go back there."

"Got it." Margaret nodded swiftly and went into action. Sam turned back to the phone.

"What else?"

"We'll start making phone calls."

She took a deep breath. "All right."

"Just a second, Sam. Donna?"

"Sam, then Toby?"

"We need the staff at 7 am sharp tomorrow morning, no excuses," Josh answered with a nod. "I'll be right there for Sam." He directed his attention to the phone again. "We'll see you in a bit, okay, sweetie?"

"Okay." Sam's voice sounded muffled; he guessed she was leaning up against a wall. "I'm going to go help Al and Aunt Margaret finish. And I promise to just turn off the TV."

"Thanks, Sam. I love you both." 

"We love you too, Uncle Josh. Bye."

Josh set the phone down and leaned against the wall for a moment, taking a deep breath. In a second, he would talk to his best friend, but in the meantime...

_Dammit._

* * *

None of them could remember ever seeing Carol Fitzpatrick so furious.

"I can't believe they'd pull this pile of shit! What the hell's the matter with these people? Unknown source... yeah, right. Whatever! I can't wait until I find out who's actually responsible, so I can tell them what an idiot they are, what a no-brained asshole they are... and couldn't they have picked something any more idiotic? A child by Laurie, after we already talked with her and verified there is no such individual, something that's been on record for the past decade? Or drag up the old argument about how serving with a President who was censured makes Sam unfit for public office? Why didn't they just bring up the damned abortion debate directly, instead of yellowjournaling it across half the damn country without asking us for a comment? Oh, yeah, that's right, they didn't do that because they were afraid the evidence would get in the way of their damn precious story! How silly of me, it's not like I know anything about politics..." She continued yelling and waving her arms while stalking back and forth for another minute or so, then stopped and rubbed one hand across her forehead, making eye contact with Sam.

"I didn't say anything," he denied quickly.

"Yeah." She sighed tiredly. "It just... pisses me off, Sam! After all that we've, that she's... Oh, the hell with it."

"You all set over there?" Donna asked from where she was sitting with her eyes closed, a small smile playing at her lips.

"For a while. At least until I start thinking about it again." Carol spun, clearly wanting to kick or punch something, and Josh ducked back.

"Um... Carol?" Her eyes flashed to his.

"Focus, right?" 

"That would be good, yeah."

"I am focused. I'm beyond focused." She took a breath. "My only question is whether we should use the original tests, or new ones." 

"Original," Sam and Josh answered in chorus. Donna opened her eyes and nodded.

"We'll show how easy it is to prove them wrong. Oh, look, you're so stupid we anticipated you over fifteen years in advance, take that," she suggested. Josh threw an affectionate look at her.

"You know I'm the master of declaring victory, Donna, but maybe a little less smugness?"

"Oh, all right." She shook her head. "I still can't believe they were so stupid..." 

"You're not working up to a rant too, are you?" Sam asked nervously. She shook her head at him.

"Can we rant now?" Al wanted to know.

"And old tests?" Sam questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"We all took paternity tests while Jed was President, anticipating just this sort of trick years down the road."

"I'm sure Carol will be happy to rant with you in just a few minutes," Josh answered Al.

Sam stood and went to face the twins. "How you doing?"

"We're good. You know, mostly... except for the whole being really angry thing."

"Oh, and the possibility of scandal. I can't believe it's going to be this easy." Al sighed. Sam laid a hand on each of their shoulders, as Josh came up behind him.

"Okay. But we just want you to know... Samantha Joan and Abigail Leona... all of us here? We're here for whatever you need. Okay?" 

"Thanks," Sam whispered back, taking Sam's hand in hers. Al met all their gazes with a determination that was unusual, even for her.

"Thanks, Uncle Sam. Just as long," and her mouth tilted in a smile, quiet and delighted, "as you're good with this and remember it: we are here for whatever you need, too."

Josh clapped a hand to his best friend's shoulder. "That goes for all of us."


	39. The End Of This Republic

_The End Of This Republic_

Sam looked at her mirror image, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair back through the longer hair. There was a gentle smile in return, a matching gesture.

"Same to you." 

"You both look good," Donna contributed from the doorway. They turned to face her in concert, one hand of each still cupping the other's ear from pulling wayward strands into place. 

"Yeah," Sam admitted. "But we're nervous. Most of the kids at the ceremony are graduating one semester early or one semester late. We're the youngest ones there by a good, what, fifteen months?"

"Fourteen," Al corrected promptly, dropping her hand. "And yeah. At least we do get to graduate in the winter with a ceremony, though. They didn't used to have that, did they?"

"Not until six years or so ago, no," Donna admitted. "It's a Galileo concept, in a way... once you've met all the requirements, why should you be held back? Why not transit to college or have extra time to look and make sure you choose the right one?" She stepped forward smoothly and took their hands, looking into the disconcerting orbs that were still, this year, on a level with hers. "So let's go."

Al's expression turned sardonic. "And not worry about the thing?" 

"And not worry about the thing," Donna agreed. "Come on. Toby's going to be there, too."

"Aunt Carol?"

"We made her promise not to set the place on fire," she laughed. "Come on, girls."

"Just a second," Sam protested, dropping her hand and turning away to the dresser. She picked up flowing silver in both hands, swinging one right into Al's waiting fingers. It glimmered and dropped as she put it on and smiled. "Okay, I'm ready."

Uncle Josh stood up from petting one of the cats and turned to face them as they came down the stairs. "There you are." He met them, dropping a kiss on each of their foreheads before wrapping his arms around Donna. "Ready?"

"Yeah, except," Al paused and fiddled with her sleeve nervously, "the thing?" 

"Squashed, Al. Squished, Sam. It's flat and getting flatter. We should be so lucky with everything else. The biggest question we have to answer right now is why we didn't put the paternity test results out there earlier; the answer is that it was never necessary and would have been incredibly insulting to your mother's memory. Oh, and nobody asked before."

"We're going right back to the campaign after the ceremony, aren't we?" Sam asked him. He looked her way, eyes lighting up as only the real thing could make them.

"Oh, we'll stop and eat first." Donna uttered a soft groan of exasperation.

"Josh! The door... now!"

* * *

"First time by ourselves."

Samantha turned, just a little. "Hmmm?"

"The other times we've been here, it's been with someone," Al clarified. "Uncle Sam, Uncle Josh..." she trailed off and lifted one shoulder.

"Yeah." Sam sighed quietly. "I wish I could leave you something," she told the pale form in front of her, voice suddenly breaking and full of tears. "But it's January, and there aren't many flowers, not really. I wish I could leave you a poll, or one of Aunt Carol's memos, or write down the story about Aunt Mallory in Wisconsin. Oh, _Mom_, can we be normal, just for a minute? I wish I could ask you about Lisa, about how Uncle Sam handled that, and I wish I could ask you..." Her voice trailed off and then became muffled as her sister stepped up to give her an embrace. "I bet you hated being so tall when you were our age, too," she added after a few minutes, voice clearer after having shed tears. Al laughed tentatively against her, agreeing.

"Flowers," she murmured after a few minutes. Releasing Sam, she knelt and scraped away a covering of snow that had built up against the headstone. "Winter bloomers." Taking her gloves off, she brushed gently at the tiny cups.

Sam, still standing with her hands clasped in front of her, smiled. "They're beautiful."

"Of course they are." Al turned to look up at her with a matching smile before her eyes flicked downward again, looking across to the nearest road that wound through the cemetery. "All right, maybe we're not by ourselves after all. I should have realized that someone would notice." 

"You didn't tell anyone?" Sam queried, mouth rounding in shock.

"Ooops, huh?" Al replaced her gloves, but didn't stand.

"I was going to say something a little stronger, Al."

"And people always think I'm the loud one," she retorted, eyes suddenly sparkling. 

"That never lasts for long." Sam sighed. "Who is it?"

Al squinted against the sunshine. "Anne seems to be our assigned tail. But she's got Huck and Claudia with her."

Sam turned. "Really? I was kind of hoping... are you sure that's Anne and not Amy?"

Al poked her in the leg. "Amy's not in the state right now." Sam promptly turned and made a face at her.

"District."

"You know what I mean."

"Of course I do, but it's the District." Al shook her head, smiling.

"This is why you drive people crazy, you know that?"

"People like me. And that's, you know," Sam waved a hand, "a compliment or something."

Al finally stood, still smiling. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"We're not gonna fight, are we?" Sam asked, pitching her voice loud enough for the approaching trio to hear. Al snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, right."

Anne came up to them and shook her head. "I thought I'd seen Toby Ziegler hit the roof before now, but _no_, you girls had to give him an excuse to really go ballistic. I think he left scorch marks and frightened away five volunteers."

The girls looked at each other. "Um, crap?" Sam finally offered.

"Actually, he was going ballistic trying to calm Josh down. He forgot what day it was."

Al's face screwed up in astonishment. "_What_? I mean, what?" 

"He thought it was still the seventeenth; jetlag, I'm guessing." Anne sighed a little. "Anyway, it all got sorted out once we figured out where you were, and they were all glad you remembered, because they'd almost forgotten."

Sam's jaw dropped slightly. "How could they forget?" There was nothing selfish about her tone; it was pure bemusement.

Anne looked at one and then the other in almost equal confusion. "The campaign's been picking up with the primaries." The two shook their heads vigorously.

"That's why they shouldn't forget, but I think they've been looking at calendars by month or week, not by year." At Anne's confused look, Al tried to elaborate. "The day of the week our birthday falls on next year."

"Guys, I enjoy a good intellectual exercise as much as anybody, but could you tell me what it is?"

The two exchanged glances and a shrug. "The nineteenth of January is on a Saturday next year," Al replied after a brief pause.

"I'm not sure I-" Anne's confusion was cut off by Claudia's abrupt exclamation.

"Does he know yet?"

"No way," Sam denied vigorously. "We haven't told anybody." 

"So if we win," Huck started, smoothly stepping in the conversation as he sometimes did when the four of them were together, then abruptly turning around three times and muttering something under his breath, "then he's going to be inaugurated the day after your birthday. And his first State of the Union will fall on the same day that President Bartlet came back and practically guaranteed his reelection, when he challenged the nation... and the same night that Uncle Sam, himself, brought the second term strategy box to Grandpa Leo."

"The day they set the world on fire again," Claudia added quietly. She looked down at the gravestone. "I wonder..."

"So this is just one of those weird coincidences?" Anne asked the foursome, trying not to clutch at her hair.

"Yep."

"Yeah." 

"Pretty much..."

"Why haven't you told him?"

"We don't want to jinx it."

"Ah." Anne looked away thoughtfully for a few moments, then turned her gaze back to the group. "Yeah, I think I can see how that would be a jinx. I'll be by the car if you need anything."

"Thanks." Al stepped forward and gave her a brief hug.

"What'd we miss?" Huck inquired after Anne had walked some distance away from them.

"I was wanting to be normal for a few minutes," Sam sighed.

"Whatever for?" Claudia wondered, smiling wryly at her. Al chuckled.

"That's what I wanted to know."

"I don't know... I mean, I've heard from Aunt Carol and Amy how some of our parents just wanted to get away from politics or DC or both after the second term ended, and I think I can see how that can happen. We're so young, and I know they're afraid we'll get burned out. So I guess I wanted to be normal for a bit to make that less likely, or something."

"But we're the impossible," her sister contradicted softly. Three pairs of eyes turned in her direction, lighting up but still confused. "I think we're a capsule of Grandpa Jed's Presidency. We were born in the storm and we came through it and greater storms, and we're running into a fire that's no less dangerous for not being possessed of physical heat, and we're doing it for knowledge and so we can reach for the stars. We're pushing our capacity in the quest to discover whether it is, indeed, limitless, and we do what is hard and what is right. We know so well that the streets of heaven are too crowded with angels, our teachers and our parents and our friends, and we will know the truth and the impossible, this new impossibility. Determination and belief and hope, for the whole truth. We know it's impossible, Samantha, Huckleberry, Claudia, but for us it's merely our capacity to meet another challenge."

* * *

Lisa Pumakin tapped her pencil against the paper, slowly. 

Six weeks. Had it really been six weeks? Her hand brushed against hair she'd pulled back too hastily this morning, and she set the pencil down to arrange it more neatly, feeling someone's eyes on her, but refusing to look up until she was done. Finally, she met Carol's worried gaze for a moment before the older woman pursed her lips and turned back to whatever it was she'd been doing.

Which was what Lisa herself ought to do, before this campaign became another in a long line of 'almosts'.

Yet the mere fact that it wasn't yet was what was distracting her so.

_Margaret looked up from the desk as Lisa came into the office. "Hi, Lisa. He's waiting for you." Her face was perfectly impassive, but there was, maybe, just a hint of speculation in her eyes._

A dozen campaigns across all definitions of 'liberal', and she could didn't need any fingers or toes to count how many she had seen to completion, win or lose.

Lisa knocked on the door automatically. "Come in," the Senator called out, and she opened the door quietly and slipped in, closing it with just a whisper of the latch. She stepped up to his desk almost boldly, then stopped to stand stiffly right in front of it.

"You wanted to see me, Senator?" She can hardly look at him, at the almost perfect features, the maddeningly young countenance that hardly looks more weathered than hers, at the blue eyes that can pierce or comfort, which must already be blazing, lanced through with regret of necessity and the need to succeed that overrides principles.

"Yes, I do." He turned a page and laid the document aside on the rich brown of his desk before glancing up briefly. "This won't take long, Lisa, but you can sit down if you'd like."

Tension coiled in her, and she answered, "I'd rather stand, Senator."

"Whatever you want," he shrugged, and continued before she could give rein to her temptation to shout out what she did want. "Do you live with your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Civil union?"

"I'd have to put that down on paperwork, Senator."

"I see. How long?"

"Excuse me?"

Expecting a different expression, she almost didn't realize it when he looked up to fix his eyes steadily on her own conflicted ones. "How long have you been together?"

She shifted a little. "Three years." He glanced down at his desk and nodded slowly.

"Why are you in politics?" 

"I... I like the possibilities."

"But not the possibilities of honesty."

"I've... yes, but not about..."

He didn't give her a chance to finish. "Is there anything else you've been hiding?"

"Nothing else that would hurt you, Senator."

His eyes flashed, and she flinched. "I didn't ask that, Ms. Pumakin."

"I don't think so."

"Don't ever hide things from me again," he directed suddenly, face stiffening to near anger. "If you don't feel comfortable telling me directly, tell Josh or Toby or Carol or Donna or Anne or Will. But don't you dare hide things from me. If you do it again, you're fired. Is that clear?"

She'd heard that tone before, briefly, when an argument escalated to near shouts and he'd defended the right thing to do with the kind of ferocious belief that made her wonder, just for a second, if this was a campaign and a candidate that could take the truth, before she remembered that no one ever did, and--

Abruptly, Lisa sat down, his words running through her brain. "What?" she managed.

"What part of what I said was unclear? You're not fired, you will be the next time you hide things from me. Go back to work."

She managed, just barely, to look up at him. "I'm lesbian, Senator." He shrugged.

"And I'm so far to the left on some issues that even California's Communist Party has called me too extreme. What's your point?"

"The values front..." she started.

"Yes?" He paused briefly. "Lisa, so help me, if you were about to suggest that you're a liability on the family values front, or any other values front..."

"I kind of was," she admitted weakly. "This is the furthest I've ever gotten in this conversation without being fired."

"Didn't Anne and Will's reactions kind of clue you in to the fact that this isn't just any campaign?"

"Yeah. But--"

"Lisa," he admonished. "Go back to work. If you want to hide, if you're not ready to be honest about this to other people, then we can find something else for you. But if you're ready, then I'd very much like you to stay." He paused and reached for what he'd been reading when she came in, then hesitated. "I'd like to meet her sometime."

Suddenly feeling buoyed up, heart lighter, she responded with great daring. "Before or after we get on the front page?"

"Oh, I think we can hold off on that one for a decade or two," he answered easily, even though his eyes show a certain odd understanding. "Ask someone who's been with me for a while about pictures on the front page. And go back to work."

Lisa smiled and tried to form a response, but could only smile more broadly and nod several times as she stood and left the office.

"Earth to Lisa." A hand rapped lightly on her desk. "You in there?"

Lisa lifted her pencil from the paper she still hadn't written anything on and blinked up at her coworker. "Hey, Justin."

"Are you all right? You've been sitting there doing absolutely nothing for about twenty minutes."

"Um, yeah. Sorry. I just--" and she waved at the schedule that wasn't in frustration "--got stumped on this, I guess. Did you need it?"

"Oh, no, not yet. You just looked like you weren't here, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Everything's fine."

"Are you getting mail?" he wanted to know.

Abruptly resentful, she glowered up at him briefly. "Why?"

"Lisa," he sighed. "I'm not tense about you because I'm scared you're going to sink us, or anything like that. I'm tense because I was expecting you to get fired."

"That was weeks ago."

"And we've hardly talked since then. Anyway," he shrugged, "if you need anything, let me know."

"It doesn't bother you that I don't find you incredibly attractive?"

"You don't?" he asked in mock indignation, then sobered. "If it did bother me, I'd be no better than the people who think that Mike should be on a reservation in Arizona, or that Marcus should be shipped back to Thailand, or that Leena should be picking cotton, or that Rich shouldn't be alive, or that Anne should be rich, or that I should be part of a ruling class, or that Donna should stay home." He lifted his hands. "Et cetera."

Lisa smiled broadly at him. "I think I find your thinking incredibly attractive."

"Thanks. Now do that schedule thing, will you?"

She laughed and swatted his pointing fingers away from the paper.

* * *

In March, Marcus doesn't take the advice to watch old briefing tapes, buttons his suit neatly, walks up to the temporary podium in the temporary press room of wherever they are this week, and promptly trips.

"Jay?" he calls with visibly enforced calm, just as visibly calling on his recent memorization of reporters and their papers. Carol, watching from upstairs as she worked simultaneously on two other things, winced internally, then glances along the short line of volunteers next to him.

"Marcus, could you give us an idea of how Senator Seaborn plans to address the concerns brought up by outsourcing?"

"Ouch," Sam himself gets in as Marcus fidgets on the podium, looking even younger than he usually does, and almost visibly trying to compose a response that circumnavigates the ninety or so pitfalls the experienced reporter had just tossed in front of him.

"The Senator intends to bring jobs back into the country without creating unmanageable shocks to any particular country's economy."

"How is he going to do that?"

"I think, Jay, that he's going to offer incentives to the companies and so forth." 

"And?"

"I haven't seen the Senator's plan for dealing with outsourcing's impact on this country, but I would expect that it will receive all due attention--"

Huck, standing two over from Marcus, winced without moving.

"That's it-" Josh started.

"I'm on it," Carol cut off, pulling out the cell phone she'd been fingering and paging Huck. He glanced up, then moved very slightly, brushing against the woman next to him. Older, more experienced, it won't be taken any more oddly than the recent answer when she steps up to announce the end of the briefing and the promise of a later one, as Huck himself stepping up would have done.

Sam moaned softly.

"It had to happen sometime," Donna contributed, reaching around Josh to put a hand on his arm. "He's young; we've got a young staff. We'll get over it."

"He didn't even watch the inflation briefing?" Josh wanted to know. "Nobody told him the story about Sam and Laurie? Anything?"

"That was a pretty tough question to dance around," Carol reminded, one hand to her forehead.

"I don't want to dance around it!" Sam immediately responded.

"Fine, Sam, it's a tough question all around!"

"So Marcus isn't going to be doing direct work with the press," Josh noted wryly. "Carol, didn't he watch any--"

"He's got the theory, Josh," she snapped back. "He's a smart kid; we'll find something for him to do."

Reluctantly, Josh cracked a smile. "At least he didn't get quite up to the secret plan stage," he admitted wryly. The rest of them laughed softly.

"They're coming," Donna warned.

Carol sighed and stood. "I'll talk to him."

"I've got it," Charlie abruptly commandeered from the couch where he was sprawled. She looked over at him.

"And what are you going to say to him?"

"I haven't decided yet," he conceded, sitting and reaching for his suit jacket. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Want Huck?" 

"Yes," she responded promptly, just as Toby declined. Donna promptly gave him a light smack on the back of the head.

"What was that for?" he inquired, rubbing at his head and looking between the two.

"I'm going to tell," Donna mock-threatened. Josh poked her, nearly causing a tickling free-for-all.

Toby rolled his eyes.

"Break it up, you two," Carol directed. "Thanks for the smack, Donna."

The other woman looked up and smiled sweetly. "Anytime."

"I'll remember that." 

"Hello?" Charlie prompted.

Carol waved a hand. "Yeah, go. Send in Huck; the other two go back to local." 

"Right."

"Don't forget to run your reelection campaign!" Josh shouted after him. Sam just winked as he closed the door.

Marcus had an expression of complete dread on his face as Charlie approached, and his lips were pressed tightly together.

"Huck, they want you in there." Charlie didn't specify anything more; he just gestured back in the other direction. The boy nodded swiftly, touched Marcus' arm sympathetically, and took off down the hall. "The rest of you, go back to whatever you were doing at headquarters, please." He took a deep breath and waited, watching Marcus, while the man and woman went back down the hall with odd expressions.

The younger man seemed to register the departure of his immediate witnesses, and slowly lifted his head to look at Charlie. "What happens now?" he asked softly.

The gentleman from Massachusetts shook his head. "That's not up to me; I'm not on the campaign staff."

"Uh... okay..."

"What happens now is partly up to Josh, Will, and Carol," Charlie elaborated. "But it's just as much up to you as them." 

Marcus looked down. "I think I screwed up too much for that."

"Yeah, that was your first mistake. Actually, that was your second mistake, even your third. You know your first and second mistakes?" A headshake. "You didn't take people's advice, and you didn't watch other people's mistakes. You've got a wealth of experience you could have drawn from before stepped up to that podium, and you didn't take advantage of it. Maybe it would have saved you; maybe it wouldn't have. I don't know. What I do know is that this campaign staff has more experience in press briefings than almost any other staff you're likely to ever work with."

"I'm never going to be up there again," Marcus bemoaned, rubbing his palms against his eyes, "so what does it matter?"

"You don't know that," Young admonished him sharply. "I'm telling you that if there's any suggestion ever again of you getting up in front of the press, that you have Josh tell you his story, you talk to Donna and Carol, who briefed for Jed Bartlet for five years and have continued to brief for WLC and Sam's office since then, and you watch old briefing tapes and see how even the best of them can screw up. Sam briefed for Jed too, did you know that? You could even ask him. They all know it was a rough question. That's not the point. The point is that you got up there without really watching things."

"It's really hard," he said softly.

"Of course it's hard. There's nothing easy about this, and you knew that when you signed on. And you asked to sign on; you asked for the challenge." 

Marcus met Charlie's eyes hesitantly. "I'm too young... I think they can tell that, that I'm not confident enough." 

Charlie smiled a little. "Now you know that. I'll tell you something else, though, about challenge and possibilities." 

"We're trying to do the impossible?" he returned. 

"That too," Charlie conceded. "But you know what else? And this is actually something my wife Zoey said when she started working with the Galileo Foundation. She told me, 'You'll become confident; you won't have time for anything else.'"

One side of Marcus' mouth quirked upward, a little reluctantly. "Should I tell Carol that when she sends me out wherever?"

"That's up to you. I can only suggest things, quote what's worked before, and tell you to ask for more of the same. What you do with it is up to you, and that's gonna be true for a long, long time." With that, Charlie nodded and turned back around, vanishing down the hallway. 

Marcus stared after him. "You never brought up quitting," he finally whispered in puzzlement.

* * *

Sam nudged Joy and Zach out the door and turned back to his most trusted and senior advisers, his friends. "I don't have anything against him."

"Sam," Josh sighed, two fingers rubbing across his forehead.

"I really don't, Josh. I have nothing against the governor of Illinois." 

"Despite the fact that he's too moderate and is presently trying to get the nomination?"

"It's what I would do in his place, probably. If I were in his place, which is unlikely, seeing as how I'm in my place..."

"He thinks you're too liberal for the country after twelve years of Republican administrations."

"Yes. Thank you, Will."

"Anytime. But you won't be offering him the spot?"

Sam drew a breath. "No. And here's why: he's not the right guy."

"But you don't have anything against him," Josh sighed.

"He doesn't have the right vibes," the candidate tried to elaborate.

"He doesn't have the right vibes," Toby echoed with soft, dangerous amusement. Sam shot a look at him.

"Do you have a better word for it?"

Toby put his pen down. "How about pretentious, unbelievable, and possessed of the same intelligence as a piranha."

"You just described Bruno Gianelli," Carol shot at him. Toby promptly turned and skewered her with a glance.

"What a coincidence."

"Narti isn't Bruno."

"Thank you for that helpful lesson, Carol."

"Any time, Toby. You were saying?" 

"Pretentious and unbelievable. Also possibly opportunistic, arrogant, and-"

"It's okay, Toby, you've convinced us," Josh sighed.

"Of that which we were already convinced," Sam added. He turned around. "Anything to add?"

"You seem to be doing all right so far," Andi replied elegantly.

"I'll yell if you need me," Donna advised. "Which reminds me, Josh, who's getting Josiah from school?"

Josh massaged his forehead briefly, frowning. "Uh, I can't remember, but I'm sure it's covered." He turned to his friend. "First thing, we're going to talk about school scheduling."

Sam's face screwed up into amused skepticism. "Um, no."

"Damn." 

"Language," Donna and Carol automatically chided. Andrea just laughed.

"So that's a no for Narti," Will prompted.

"Yeah. A big no."

Sam suddenly smiled. "If you thought it took us a while to agree that Narti was a no, which is weird considering we all agreed in the first place, you're going to love the next candidate."

"No," Toby said flatly. Josh and Will both looked over at him.

"You know, Toby," Josh advised, "you should get a desk and come work with the campaign, so you can do this all the time."

"I think Mike misses you," Will added.

"Maybe," came the concession, accompanied by the tapping of the pen.

"Well?" Donna prompted. "Who is it?"

"I thought everyone already knew," Sam replied in puzzlement.

"I think we do and we just don't know which controversial candidate you're considering right now."

"Ben Anders." 

"Good," Andi nodded after a pause. "You'll either win spectacularly with a majority from both major parties, or you'll get eight percent of the vote for pissing off both of them." 

"Thank you, Andrea."

"I yield to the gentleman from New York," she said dryly, eyes shifting to Toby, who was almost visibly containing an explosion of objections.

"I have no objection to the lady from Maryland keeping the floor." 

"There may not be a floor if I don't yield, Sam." 

"Yes, Toby?"

"Are you insane?" 

"You disagree with Andi?"

"Yes. No." Toby paused. "A Republican? Did I hear you right, Sam? You just proposed to have a Republican as your running mate?"

"You heard right."

"Would someone please wake me up somehow? Am I under hypnosis? Is this a secret production of The Twilight Zone?"

"Toby's going to the zoo," Carol murmured.

Josh quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah." 

"Toby?" Will interceded. "Do you actually have a problem with this?" The older man angled a hand in his direction.

"I have many problems with this, Will; I choose not to elaborate on all of them right now. Sam, Ben Anders can't move any further to the left without going out of sight of his own party's most liberal platforms! And he would have to be further to the left to be the running mate for you, since you're so far to the left more than half of your own party can't see you!" 

"He's the guy," Sam said quietly.

"There's no one else we can put on the ticket and not have one of the candidates driving the other stark raving mad within a week, Toby," Donna noted. Toby rubbed his neck in frustration and sighed. 

"You've already decided to do this?"

"We're meeting with him right after I get back," Josh replied. Toby's eyes flicked darkly to his, then back to Sam, giving silent assent. 

"We can still argue about it if you want, though," Andi offered.

"Your own party, Sam!" Toby declared. Sam looked over at Andi.

"I think that was a yes, and did you have to do that?"

"If we argue about it now, he might be civil to Ben by the time you and Josh have the meeting," she suggested.

"Yeah. That's a fair point; have fun." Sam stood.

"Our two-party system would be more believable if they were a little further apart on the political spectrum," Carol picked up.

"That has nothing to do with choosing a Republican as Sam's running mate." 

"No, that has to do with, you know, bipartisanship and some other stuff I'm sure we'll see at some point," Will responded.

"Yes, Will, we will see it when we lose spectacularly for our attempt."

"Fine, you take that side, I'll take the other side."

* * *

Leandra turned another page and frowned. Across from her, Justin latched one hand onto his hair and scanned down one of the pages in his lap, looking more puzzled by the moment.

A member of the House from Washington state who had been running just to the right of Sam had rather abruptly dropped out and resumed running her House campaign a couple of primaries back, one that she was rumored to lose to a challenger from her own district.

A prickle ran down her spine, and she wished she hadn't gone through school so quickly, wished she hadn't applied to this campaign, wished she hadn't met Samantha and Toby so long ago...

Wished that Samantha herself hadn't had time to curl up and look at campaign stats for the last twenty or thirty years in spare time that ought to be nonexistent.

"Um," Justin managed. He looked up and pulled his hand out of his hair, then looked at his as though expecting to see most of the dark blond mop clutched in it. "I'm going insane, right?" he pleaded with a quiver in his voice. "Please tell me I'm going insane."

"How would I know?" she retorted. "You're the more experienced one. Are we going insane, or are these wrong, or..." she trailed off. 

"Is something else wrong?" He dropped his feet to the floor. "As the more experienced person, I think we should go see Anne, 'cause she's around and Carol and Will aren't, and she can tell us we're crazy."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," she agreed, standing and folding up the stack of papers that was causing... she wasn't sure what it was causing, but something wasn't right.

"Maybe Anne won't be able to tell us we're crazy," Justin suggested as they came up on her office.

"Samantha, I am taking you seriously. I just don't think that could possibly be right."

"Anne, there is absolutely something wrong with those statistics! There's no way the money could just keep disappearing."

When Justin stopped a few feet back from the door, Leandra tugged him forward and knocked on the door. "What and who is it?" Anne demanded from inside. "No, never mind."

When the handle gave, Leena just opened it and stepped halfway inside. "Me. And Justin. You're talking about the campaign stats Sam's been looking at?"

"Yes." Anne planted a fist on her desk and glowered. "And I don't want to talk about them anymore." 

Sam's lips pinched tightly together, but she didn't glance over at the two newcomers.

"Well," Justin answered, finally stepping in and shutting the door, "I'm sorry, Anne, but you're going to have to."

"I'm done." 

"DeMartin's campaign is consistent with other campaigns over the past three decades," he said softly, watching Leandra's face tighten. Anne shook her head vigorously. "It is, Anne. You know something's not right; other countries have established democracy far more recently than we have, have granted suffrage to women more recently than we have, and have already had a woman as President. The women of this country have had the right to vote for almost a century. Add it up."

"It has to be a coincidence," she denied, voice shaking. Her eyes met theirs in quick, despairing flickers, and Justin knew that this went to the core of her being: Daughter of the American Revolution, distant offspring of a signer of the Declaration of Independence, granddaughter of a liberal President, Anne feared admitting to that which would shatter the principles she thought her relatives held as dear as she herself did.

She was six months into being regional coordinator; no one else could do it now and she couldn't afford to let this crack her belief in two. There was no one else to tell, with Josh overseas with Noah for the next few days and Will and Toby and Carol hammering out the next six months of message... message that would now be obsolete, for it was designed for a world without this burden of knowledge.

Would Seaborn/Anders ever now come to pass? Would this rob the country of a chance for bipartisanship, a chance for an odd and maverick ticket to surge to an astounding win or suffer a crushing defeat?

Wearily, mind turning over, Anne dropped into her chair, rested her elbows on the desk, and set her head in her hands. The three of them waited quietly, with a complete and invisible lack of patience.

At last, she brushed dark hair out of her face. "Samantha?" 

"Yes?"

"Where's the Senator?" 

"Senate offices; he should be getting ready for a speech or something." Sam swallowed; Anne had never called him the Senator before.

Her eyes, when she lifted them fully, were just a little red and more than a little strained. "Let's go talk to him, then."

* * *

Samantha wished she could duck out of the office, but it was her research and curiosity that had brought them here, and no one but her could tell what made her see something odd.

That is, if she could still remember.

"I think it was DeMartin's campaign that started it," Anne concluded. "Samantha?" 

She jumped and tried to focus. "Yeah, uh... that and something about Jamieson/Wyatt was bothering me that I couldn't figure out. And other campaigns..." she trailed off and clenched her hands tightly in front of her.

Sam's angry eyes flicked to Leandra, then Justin. "And the two of you looked at records?" 

"Yes. We both started seeing the same thing... it didn't take that long."

"Sam," Anne started softly, watching Sam's face pale, then redden, scars abruptly standing out almost as much as eyes holding increasing and almost unbearable fury. 

"Let me see if I've got this straight," he observed. "The Democratic Party has been deliberately obstructing any attempt by women in the Party to run for President by refusing to allocate party funds and/or actual siphoning of funds? The leadership of this party has, for the last three decades, been engaged in an active attempt to keep men in power?"

Even as Justin almost took a step back away from that intensity, he was listening to Sam's cadence build, hearing the voice and layers of the voice that could bring thousands or millions of people to their feet. His writer's soul longed to take that cadence and give it words that could make anything happen.

"Yes," Anne affirmed at last, looking reluctant and furious. Her fists weren't clenched, but Leandra's were, as she stood against the back wall of the room. 

Sam's energy coiled, and he leaned on his desk, gaze sweeping across it. Samantha abruptly sucked in a breath, the sound lost as his eyes went across a frame whose subject she knew intimately, and yet didn't know at all, and dark, sad betrayal cast across his face in the instant before he exploded, kicking the chair back and drumming both fists on the desk.

"After all--" Sam's breathing was ragged, and he could barely form words. "I can't believe--" Suddenly, he swung away from the desk and stormed out the door, face set.

"Oh, God," Justin whispered. Anne darted forward to his desk, then turned, looking hesitant, just before the door opened and Margaret poked her head in, looking more odd and freaked out than she had in the time any of them had known her.

"What was that?"

"Is Donna still in Andrea Wyatt's office?" Anne asked instead. 

"Yes."

"Call her, tell her to get out and look for Sam. Look for his car or something."

"Yeah." Margaret retreated back around the door, leaving them to stare at each other.

"Al's there too," Sam noted suddenly, voice drained. Anne looked at her gently.

"It'll be okay, Sam. You're not responsible for this."

"But I noticed it."

"Would you rather you hadn't?" Guilt and brokenness met, and Sam conceded by glancing aside. "I just hope Donna can stop him..."

"Nothing's ever going to be the same again," Justin managed, looking ill.

* * *

Donna wasn't even entirely sure what she was doing in the car anymore; her day had blurred into sharp, swift memories of Margaret's frantic voice and Anne's terse explanation, followed by a swift dash to stop potential disaster.

Sam's glare as she stood in the way of the car had, she imagined, almost enough force of anger behind it to crack the windshield. She'd moved recklessly and almost without thought, trying to protect him and trusting that even in anger, he would still remember... or, after all, why else was he quite so angry?

She'd made a quick dash for the passenger door at one point, and now sat coiled in the seat, watching Sam's tightly controlled movements as he drove north, wanting answers to what he almost certainly assumed was another betrayal.

At last, the car grumbled down a length of gravel and trees, emerging by the house in which they'd discussed hopes and dreams and plans... the same things that were now at risk, from either Sam's fury or the cause of his fury.

"Sam!" she tried as he swung out of the car and dashed for the house.

"Not now, Donna!" 

"Yes, now!" she replied with force, but it was lost and denied against that swift, angry belief.

Had anyone thought to call ahead, warn the Bartlets or Leo of the disaster they'd just unearthed, this violation of principles and freedom? Or hadn't they thought that far ahead, to Leo's history with the party, to Jed and Leo's old friendship, in which anything might have been mentioned?

Donna tried to get ahead of him as he stormed through the hallways, but that stride took up too much breadth, and not knowing his destination with surety, she couldn't circle around. 

_Oh, damn. Please, please let this be all right in the end._

Leo's eyes turned tense as Sam bore down on him, knowing that something was wrong and not knowing what it was. "Sam?" he queried as the younger man ground to a stop in front of him.

"Did you know?" Sam got out.

"Did I know what, Sam?" Donna put a hand to her mouth, suddenly longing for one of the agents to spirit in here and yank Sam away from his father in law.

"The party," Sam spat. "The betrayal of everything we believe in... the party's bias and conspiracy to keep the status quo at all costs with their own twisted motives."

"Sam, what on earth are you talking about?"

And Sam reached down, took Leo by the shoulders, and pulled him half out of his seat. "You know what I'm talking about! You were deep in the party, you were trusted by them. How much money did you take to keep women away from power, Leo? _How much_?!"

"Sam!" Donna shouted, moving forward to grip at Sam's taut arms. "Abbey!" she called more loudly.

Leo was shaking his head a little, suddenly fearful hazel eyes turned upward to meet those of his son in law. "No, Sam..."

"Sam, let go!" Donna directed, emphasizing with a sudden grip on one wrist. "It's Leo, Sam. Please let go. Stop it!"

"Samuel!" Abbey called sharply from the doorway. Sam turned halfway to meet her eyes, then turned back to the older man, still caught in his grip. Abruptly, he let go of Leo and stumbled back, landing on the floor in a trembling heap. Leo sagged back into the chair, shaking all over, and stared at him.

"Oh, my God," he got out at last, sweeping one hand across his face. "I... Leo..." and the trembling turned to tears.

* * *

A familiar step and mutter woke Mallory up that night, as she had been expecting. A glance at the clock told her it was about two in the morning; sounded right, coming back from New Hampshire. She turned a little to face Sam, watching his shadows until he came to the bed and looked down at her.

"What happened?" she asked softly, sitting up.

"The end of the world." 

"Sam." She sat up more fully, letting the blanket fall into her lap, and edged toward him. "It's going to be okay."

"No, it's not," he sighed, one hand coming up to brush at her hair, then dropping away before it touched her. Mal's lips tightened; he feared her knowing or not knowing, feared her anger.

"Samuel," she sighed, fighting back tears of anger and worry and fury at injustices done, lifting her left hand to his face to trace along the temple, then down his ear, along the shoulder and arm, brushing across at last to the ragged scar near his stomach. It was an old touch, a reassurance for both of them. "Come to bed, Sam; it's two in the morning." 

"I know it is." He stood still a moment more, then dropped down to lay next to her. She could feel the tight muscles in his shoulders and back, but left the next words to him, turning away and letting her back curl against his chest. Slowly, their breaths evened out, but eyes were closed only to hide, not to sleep.

"It's a dirty fight," he said finally. Mallory turned around to face him, tucking her legs up a little and putting one hand on his arm. "What happened... our own party, Mallory."

"I know," she returned softly, the simple words stopping him in his tracks as nothing else could have at that moment. In the ensuing stillness, she propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. "All those women, Sam." Tears prickled suddenly, and she ignored them furiously, moving onward. So much had led them to this road, this moment, when Sam realized the price of the truth: CJ's determination and sacrifice, Samantha's gifts and pained recital almost five years ago, Andrea Wyatt's attempt at the Vice Presidency four years ago, the first meeting with Amy, back when CJ was still alive, her defense of CJ, Ben and Andrea's work on the Cregg Bill, Donna's choice to work to shorten a gap they would now understand all too well, her own choices for her main issues, to focus on women at home and abroad and give them more possibilities. "Who knows?" 

"Anne. Justin and Leandra. Donna. The twins. Me." 

"And me," she sighed softly. "Sam, you've got to tell them."

He twisted a little, stopping as her hand moved to rest on his chest. "Mallory, this is a violation of... I can't even imagine. The end of so much, when it gets out." 

"Then tell them first," she advised. "Talk with Donna and Amy. Tell Carol, Will, and Toby, and tell Josh as soon as he gets back. But Sam, you've got to tell them."

"You mean the country," he realized.

"Yes."

"Mal, I'd be accepting the responsibility and, and everything for three decades' worth of the Democratic Party's twisted..."

"That's not the point," she cut off.

"What's the point?" 

She glanced aside, knowing what was bothering him. "Jed had MS, and he told the country about it."

"He concealed it before that, Mallory!"

"And then he told everyone, Sam," she insisted. "He stepped up and he said, this is what I did. You've got to step up and say that this is what's been happening, and it's not going to happen, ever again. What was it Claudia said to you?"

"Know the whole truth," he whispered softly, not surprised that she knew, this spirited partner who had followed through on every ounce of her promise and dictum that they be equals.

"So give them the whole truth," she challenged. "Talk with Annie, the rest of the staff, ask Donna and Amy and Carol how to release it. Meet with Ben and ask him to look into cleaning his own house; there have been powerful Republican women, too. You think right now, Sam, that this is going to be the end of this republic; so give it a clean finish so we can start again more equally. Don't leave things hanging out there to fester and undermine the country again."

"Wow," he finally murmured. "It's too bad you can't be my running mate."

"I'm not crazy enough," she asserted. "So, are you going to do it?"

"Yeah," he confessed, and paused.

She caught the hesitance and lifted her hand, turning it to lightly kiss the smooth metal of her own wedding band, then placing it over his heart. "Equals, Sam," she reminded again, echoing one of their oldest promises.

"Equals," he agreed. "But what we have to do... it'll be harder than we thought. Six months, Mal, to shake the country apart and get it to vote."

"It's what you picked this staff for," she reminded softly, lying down again, this time to sleep.

* * *

As it turned out, Sam needed neither to make the announcement himself nor to find some roundabout fashion of seeing if someone could leak the bad news for him; the media came to him first, in the form of two reporters trailing Danny Concannon. The two had discovered the oddities just a couple of weeks earlier, and in investigating run across his still formidable interest in national politics.

It was just as well that Sam had met with Ben before they came, for their information was bipartisan. He shuddered. 

_We might come out on top this time, because we wanted the truth and because we had Ben Anders working with us, because he believes in bipartisan effort. But if things had been just a little different, this could have been the end of this campaign... the end of our careers, Anne, Toby, Josh, Will, Carol, Mike, Lisa, Rich, Justin, and Marcus and Leandra, just starting out. So, so close._

The end of this republic, this stained and tattered version of freedom and democracy, now with a chance to forge herself to a bright newness, if only they all had the courage.

So Sam took a deep breath and answered their questions as best he could, listening to Danny's corrections and suggestions with some amusement, and watched as they asked Ben Anders similar questions.

He would probably never know, now, that he had almost been offered the VP spot. Ironic, since he was proving his worth with every response, every gesture and expression.

Later, the old staff gathered silently and without apparent plan, tucking themselves into seats and gazing at the damning statistics or at platforms they couldn't use or stops that had hinged on Seaborn/Anders. Charlie wandered in last, looking ragged from days of fundraisers and other events at which he had to pretend he didn't know. Sam looked at him apologetically. 

"I'm sorry, Charlie." The younger man shook his head, refusing the apology, but Sam pressed on. "This affects you more than most of us. Ben's almost ready to retire, and now I can't have him... can't have you four years from now."

"Well," Charlie started, mouth twitching a little, "I'm relieved to hear that, actually, because Zoey would have lit the place up like you wouldn't believe." Josh snorted a little despite his exhaustion and frustration.

"I think we would."

"Yeah." 

"Sam," Amy prodded. "You know what to do. It's up to you..." She tilted her head back a little, surveying him through her glasses with brown eyes that were sharp and understanding and vulnerable all at the same time. This could be a huge turning point for her, for what she did and fought for, and she didn't care; she was focused on the campaign.

"I wish it could be you," he told all the women in the room at once. Amy smiled and ducked her head a little, looking almost wistful, while Donna just clasped her hands and regarded him. Carol met his gaze with absolute understanding, dark and knowing what almost two decades of working together through strife and loss had taken.

"If CJ were here, would you pick her?" she asked him, daring and yet a little lost. Sam didn't answer in words; he just drew long breaths and tilted his head a little. "Yeah," she agreed, smiling, a soft and sorrowful expression. "That's what I thought." 

"Who?" Will queried.

Josh sought for and met Sam's eyes, then looked briefly at Carol. "Someone who runs into walls full speed." She straightened, dark eyes and dignified face suddenly flashing with determination to move ahead. 

"The real thing, Josh?" Will wanted to know.

"It seems like the thing to do," Josh returned. "Seaborn for America... and someone else for America. A woman who can be Sam's equal, and someone the country already knows."

"A Senator," Toby and Charlie noted in concert.

"Few governors are well known enough," Donna half-endorsed. "There still aren't that many women in the Senate, Sam... what is it, 22, 23?"

"Maybe 24," he returned absently. "I know who it's going to be."

"Sam," Josh interceded, "I know you feel bad about DeMartin, but she's not a big enough name."

"I wasn't thinking of her," Sam assured, lips curving into a faint smile. He looked at Toby. "I was thinking of someone who's run as a VP candidate already." 

"Maryland!" came the endorsement from Charlie, Donna, and Amy. Carol just smiled.

Toby's mouth opened slightly, and he shook his head a little bit. "Sam..." 

"The real thing, Toby. You know, and I know, that Andrea _believes_." The older man's eyes darted aside, catching the edge of Josh grinning as he got up, reaching for Donna and Carol at the same time, already dancing.

Yet Toby was already rewriting a speech written a decade ago to make it meld with the running mate Sam had just proposed. Suddenly, he grinned fiercely. 

Seaborn/Wyatt.

Amy looked at him from across the room. "Every two years," she called to him, "we get to overthrow the government. Come on, Toby!"

* * *

Andrea knew as soon as she stepped into Sam's awkward campaign office; the looks from the staff had told her, and the meeting place had told her.

Now the graphic Sam swung toward her on the computer screen confirmed it, and something caught in and at her as she looked at it.

"It's a rough draft," he apologized.

"That's how you're asking me?" she managed to retort.

Smiling, he spun it away from her. "If you say no, it'll be the first time in your life you've ever said no to anything."

She moved toward him swiftly, and he stood up, eyes on a perfect level with hers as she stopped a foot away and studied the blue orbs for conflict and hesitance.

"I'm not used to this, Sam."

"You're not used to politics?" he inquired, smiling more.

"No," she denied with a laugh. "I'm not used to-" she stopped and gestured back toward the busy campaign offices "-this. This belief, Sam. Seaborn for America and Seaborn: A Better America, and everything else. Jamieson knew he was going to lose. I've never felt like this before."

"Seaborn/Wyatt for America," he corrected. "If you'll have us, if you'll let us have you." 

She chuckled. "My children have the idealism down, Sam; I'm not sure I do. Belief and the impossible, and the whole truth?" 

"Sometimes you have to know the whole truth about something before you can believe in it," he returned. "The question is... do you still believe in this? Do you think this can be done?" He gestured at his office and somehow encompassed the whole of the campaign and its staff in the movement. "Tomorrow, newspapers around the country will carry a story that herald the end of the republic we've known. We're asking you, and I'm asking you, to help us make a new one, a better one."

Andrea's fierce, elegant features were still for a moment, then she smiled. "The end of this republic, Samuel? I'm on board. Get ready, because I'm not gonna hold back anymore."

Sam moved as if to shake her hand, then lifted both hands to her shoulders, feeling another partnership solidify, one that would stand true against the test and take on a life of its own.

Oh, this felt right, this change from what they had planned. Seaborn/Wyatt in '18 it was.


	40. Where No One Gets Left Behind

_Where No One Gets Left Behind_

Shock ran through the country, and was relentlessly chased by anger, which was followed by mistrust, which combined with anger again, and both wrapped themselves around shock in the minds of millions of Americans. There was a fair share of denial, too, and pure anger, and the reactions from certain other countries were so biting as to be rarely discussed.

Then came a sudden odd vindication, though with mistrust still running underneath it; a mistrust of the two parties and their leadership, a mistrust of what people said, and a desire to see someone say things in a manner that made everyone truly believe. It was to become a test of who in the public eye could and would and dared to reach down and speak from their hearts. No few women who had been doing poorly in their races, from the local to federal level, suddenly found themselves with more money or more publicity than they had ever expected to receive. DeMartin of Washington found herself, without warning, not only back in the running for whatever she might have wanted to run for, but also a national symbol.

For a long, long moment then, she hesitated over all the possibilities abruptly open to her, knowing that all the odds and outcomes of this already unique election had changed yet again. A well-placed conversation set her firmly in the direction of a solid win in her district and gave her a link to Ben Anders; younger than Ben or Sam, she could help guarantee that some changes would go through, if all their efforts failed this time. 

"She wouldn't have done it," Amy asserted to Donna sometime in the middle of May, as the younger woman looked over at her without really looking, eyes instead watching the memories of shots fired and a red light being run and an unexpected answer given in the midst of an unexpected storm and frail and vulnerable bruises on a friend's body and soul...

"No, not after she heard about Andi," she replied at last, coming back to the present a little bit. "I don't know how much longer we can hide that, though."

"Eight weeks?"

"Too long," Donna dismissed. Amy smiled at her.

"We could use you after the election still, if you want," she offered. The other sighed a little and brushed one hand across her face.

"I don't know... I've loved this, there's no question about that, and in some ways our job just became a lot more transparent. But at the same time... eleven years is a long time to be at the same place, and I'd always planned to do something in the administration if Sam got elected."

"I understand," the older woman agreed softly. "This does grow on you a little, and of course with the situation and with Andi running, we've got things to do for the campaign regardless of what you do for it yourself. I was wondering, though, if you were going to be working with Josh..."

"He could work for me," Donna suggested with a slight laugh, which Amy echoed. "But I think even if I do work with him, it would really be with him, not for, and it's been so long since I've worked for him that I don't think we'd have any trouble that way."

"At least until you disagree."

"Well, there's no helping that, especially since I'm always right." Amy laughed at this, then looked over at her more seriously.

"You know that because of this, almost any candidate who doesn't support total equality could be completely destroyed, not just for this campaign but for others."

"Yeah, I've thought about that." Donna braced one hand against her temple to look at the woman who was, all at once, relentless fighter and boss and friend and ally. "You don't think there'd maybe be some backlash from that?" 

"Which party?"

"Amy, I know you keep saying, and I keep saying too, that every two years we get to overthrow the government, but I think the effective leader of the Republican Party is a little past our capabilities."

"And Sam would be mad if we did his work for him," she mused in response, eyes mischievous.

"That too," Donna agreed. "As for Narti... he's got enough problems." 

"Terrible economic platform."

"We don't know what he's for."

"Although he does have a decent position on worker's rights."

"But his position on other rights..."

"Yeah, let's not go there."

"It's not that I don't like him, exactly," Donna confessed. "It's that he's the kind of politician I don't like."

"You're far too nice," Amy criticized. 

"I thought that was why you keep me employed," she replied with a smirk.

"That and your good looks, because we completely ignore our own platforms."

* * *

"How you doing?" Mal asked him, giving his tie another smoothing pat.

Sam smiled wanly. "Terrified." 

"You're more ready than I was," Jed Bartlet advised from where he was sitting.

"Yeah, well..." Sam trailed off, momentarily looking younger. "You know, I can't think of a safe response to that."

"Good." The old man pretended to turn his attention back to some Seaborn for America leaflets. "Who came up with this junk, Senator?" 

The other's tone was so mock-severe that Sam almost laughed. "Your granddaughter."

"I always knew she'd be trouble some day," came the grumble.

"Speaking of grandkids..." Leo started.

Mallory rolled her eyes. "Please, Dad. You're going to jinx it."

"I was just asking."

"They're going out on stage with us," she confirmed. "You know, assuming there is a stage to go out onto..."

"Go outside, turn around three times, and spit," her husband directed.

"No."

"Fine. I'll just kiss you, then."

"Tell me when it's safe," Leo shot at them.

"This is going to be a really long kiss, in that case," Sam retorted.

Carol stuck her head into the room at that moment. "Sam, Mallory? You ready?"

"No," Sam moaned.

"Okay, I'll have Josh stand in for you, including the speech."

"I'm going."

"Sam," Jed's voice stopped him. "Seriously. This is good stuff. How'd you come up with it?" 

"Is he coming, or what?" Josh demanded from the hallway. Carol promptly yanked him into the room. "Oh. Sorry." 

"I think, Jed, that since Josh so helpfully stopped by, you should ask him how we came up with that," Sam suggested, a gentle, joyful smile playing at his lips.

"Josh?" 

"Yeah. Sir..."

Bartlet actually clucked at him a few times. "Eleven years, Mr. Lyman."

"Sorry." Josh ducked his head and shot the former President an almost boyish look of apology. "You mean, how did we come up with including everyone?"

"Yeah."

"Galileo." 

"A bigger theme."

"Yeah."

"So who expanded it this time?"

"We were arguing in a staff meeting a couple of months ago, not too long after the thing came out, and Toby told us we were idiots and to go back to basics." Josh shrugged. "That was it, more or less. He looked over at me and lifted his eyebrows and asked if I remembered when he was always right. And then I realized what he was referring to... that government should be a place where people come together, and where no one gets left behind."

"One of the phrases I was always sorry I never got a chance to speak in a venue large enough to make a difference," Jed noted. Sam turned to Carol.

"Carol, get me Mike or Justin or Will, whomever you can find first." 

"Yeah. They're going to love that." She started to pull back into the hallway, but Josh shook his head at her.

"It's already in there."

"What?"

"Toby..." 

"Is messing with my speeches?"

"You really mind that much?"

Sam paused. "No. But he's going to have to start asking me."

"Fine. You tell him that."

"Boys," Bartlet admonished gently. They grinned.

"We're going."

"Yeah, we're going to get Sam ready for the thing. Carol, could you do a last-minute check, please?"

"Everyone's still sane except the two of you."

"Smartass."

"I learned from the best," she retorted.

"If we could head in the direction of the thing, that would be nice," Mallory prompted.

"Come on, Leo." Jed wheeled forward. "Maybe if we get moving, they'll come along."

Sam was looking at Carol. She blushed and ducked her head, hair swinging over her face, but he shook his head and stepped forward. "Carol..." 

"Sorry."

"Have I ever said thank you?" 

"For what?"

"Helping me get this far." He took her face between his hands and studied her. "Do you think I don't know how easy it would have been for you to leave politics and find a job that paid better, with less stress, with no hint at all of any of this?"

"You never know what you can do until you're challenged to do it," she answered. "Let's go, Sam."

He kissed her gently on the forehead and dropped his hands, holding one out to Mallory. "Let's go."

* * *

Six Weeks Earlier

"I challenge you to make the choice," Sam declared from where he stood at the front of the room. "I challenge you to be better, to learn more, to listen more, to speak more. I challenge you, the American people, to-" He stopped and shook his head. "Nah. Not gonna work." 

"Come on, Sam," Mike begged from her seat in the front row. "We have to have a good speech for this. You can't run this on TV spots and billboards alone."

"The rhythm's wrong."

"Our rhythm is fine," Justin retorted, clearly prickly.

"We're writing for a Bartlet-Seaborn synthesis," Will suddenly noted, looking up. "Sam, it reads like one of your election year speeches for President Bartlet, and you-"

"Wrote for him for a long time," Sam sighed. "Yeah, I know." He took his glasses off and looked around, frustrated. "But Mike, you're right. We've got to have a solid platform speech for this." 

"So let us write one," she replied. "You're back tonight?"

"Yeah."

"We'll have one ready for you tonight."

A senatorial brow puckered skeptically. "Uh, right."

"We will," she insisted. "We're betting our political careers on it." 

"Yes, you certainly are." Sam stepped away from the mock podium and surveyed them. "I'll be back tonight, I'll come here, I will read the speech. If there's no speech, Toby gets to take care of you."

"It'll be ready," Will assured again.

"Yeah." He tucked his glasses in his pocket and left. Mike immediately turned to Will.

"Speech by committee."

His eyes widened in horror, Will actually backed up a little. "No."

"Oh, yeah. I've been able to write his senatorial speeches just fine, but this requires a different approach now that we're in the final few months of campaign. They think we've been coming on strong? Ha, right. They haven't seen anything."

"And you think writing by committee will help that?" Justin asked her.

"Yeah. You know why?"

"We all know different Sam Seaborns," Will replied wearily. "Okay, fine. But you're the one going to Toby first if this doesn't work."

"Toby likes me."

"He won't if you disappoint Sam." 

"Team effort, Will."

"I said okay!" Will slid out of his seat and headed out of the room. "Give me a few minutes. And we won't be able to get everybody--Rich is in Missouri, I think."

"Whoever's here."

Mike stretched her legs and looked over at Justin. "I hope you brought lots of paper."

"Always." He stood up. "Let's go do something completely insane."

"We're not getting drunk in the middle of the day on a weekday, Justin." 

"No, of course you wouldn't consider this completely insane," he grumbled, "you came up with it. Crazy woman." 

"Thanks. That was almost part of my last name, you know."

He winced. "Mike-"

"I was kidding." She looked up at him now, dark eyes full of mischief. "Come on. This is going to bring the house down when we're done."

"We're writing a speech?" Anne demanded a few minutes later. She moved her hand in a circle to encompass the whole room. "All of us?"

"Yeah." Mike stood and uncapped a pen. "Toby said that government should be a place where people come together, and where no one gets left behind. We have a female VP candidate. We're one of the most diverse campaign staffs ever assembled, as well as one of the youngest. We're going to complete this campaign as one of the biggest scandals in American politics plays itself out. And we have a bigger theme. So... ideas. Now." She poised the pen over the board.

There was a brief, frantic silence as everyone glanced at everyone else. Mike started to turn in annoyance.

"Issues?" Leandra checked.

"Yep."

"Um." She paused. "Education?"

Mike aimed the pen at her. "Education is a biggie. What else?"

"Equality." 

"Willingness."

"Belief." 

"Hope."

"Health."

"Come on, I know you can do better than this!" she challenged. 

"What, you want phrases?" Anne retorted.

"Yes!" 

"An imperfect system is no reason to not challenge ourselves!"

"Our capacity may well be limitless!" 

"Raise the level of public debate!"

"This isn't a time for people who don't like alternatives just because they can't think of any."

"The impossible!"

"Know the whole truth."

"Now you're talking," Mike encouraged, writing hastily. "How do we get all of those into a speech without saying any of them?"

"Learn..." Marcus trailed off hesitantly.

"Challenge them... us, them, whomever..."

"It's basic psychology." 

"Dare the American people?"

"Dare them to do what?"

"Dare them to learn."

"Dare them to vote for someone else."

"My America will be a place where all the people of this country can come together, where we can all challenge ourselves to be proud to call ourselves Americans. It will be a place where we all vow and we all try not to leave anyone behind, where we can truly become a diverse and proud nation. There'll be problems, there'll be setbacks and conflicts and everything else, but I ask you today to make this promise with me: that we shall try. We will try to provide the most basic needs and skills for everyone. We will try to encourage ourselves to all know enough to make the choice, because all too often we make a choice without knowing enough. We will dare each other to make this country a better place to live, for this generation, and for the next, and for the next one after that."

Justin fell abruptly silent, blushing all over.

"And if you don't like that, you should vote for someone else," Will finished.

"As long as you know the truth about them too," Claudia murmured. 

Mike looked around. "Okay, we've got a paragraph. What's the rest of it?"

"State-specific," Anne directed, stabbing a finger in the general direction of the board. 

"Daring," Lisa said softly. "Mike." 

"Yeah?"

"If he okays it, could you-" she stopped and coughed awkwardly.

"Put it in?" 

"Yeah."

"Lisa, are you sure?" Will asked mildly, studying her. She nodded.

"The girls said it first, about the truth."

"To make a decision?" She nodded again.

"I'm ready." 

"Lisa," Justin called. "Can I kiss you?" 

"No!"

"Aww..."

"Okay, just this once." Over Justin's shoulder, Lisa quietly gave Carol a smile and a thumbs-up.

* * *

"Because this is what's next. Because the history of mankind is hung on a timeline of exploration, and this is what's next," Sam answered passionately. "It's because we saw fire and thought up the wheel and made the first sailing vessel and trekked across land and ocean. Because it's there, and because we're explorers. That's why."

"Yes?" Toby answered, unimpressed.

"We never know what exploration will let us discover or accomplish until we try."

"I don't think that's what Toby was looking for," Anne suggested.

"I think you need to mock him again," Margaret contributed.

"In the end, it's all a bigger theme. It's founded on the most general and idealistic of platforms: that we can achieve more."

Toby tilted his head back and surveyed Sam. "All right," he said quietly.

Sam smiled in relief. "Thanks. Did I just win my first argument with you?"

"That wasn't an argument," he replied.

"Good job anyway," Al said, nudging her a little.

"Thanks." Sam started playing with her hair again and then stopped. "I'm so nervous. Isn't there anything to do?"

"Not now," Anne told her, surveying the now-silent phones. "If this vote doesn't give anyone the minimum number, we'll be busy again."

Al bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. "I need to stuff envelopes or something."

"Like you usually do?" Al made a horrible face at the speaker, then laughed.

"Oh, yeah. That's all kids can do during a campaign, you know." 

"And you're both very good at it," Margaret deadpanned.

"How are the kids doing?" Anne asked Toby after a pause. He lifted a shoulder at her.

"They're taking all of it better than I would."

"Yeah." 

"They're taking it better than Sam and Mal's kids." 

"Joy and Zach are younger, so that doesn't surprise me a great deal, Toby. Besides, Huck and Claudia have done active work for the campaign, and they might not be in the spotlight as much as the Seaborns."

"That's probably true," Margaret noted in the silence after Toby's raised eyebrow of assent.

"How much longer?" Sam begged.

Anne looked at her watch. "I guess we can go down in five or ten minutes. Any longer and we'll all explode. Don't look at me like that, Toby."

"I wasn't."

"You going out on stage if that becomes, ah, necessary?"

"No. We're okay."

"Yep." 

"And you didn't jinx it," Toby added after a judicious pause. "This was settled almost a month ago."

* * *

Four Weeks Earlier

"Yeah."

"Just this last thing..."

"Don't forget about the troops."

"Also about San Diego."

"I've got it."

"Okay, you guys, thanks very much," Josh cut in. Lisa and Will backed off.

"I'm good," Sam assured him.

"Yeah, I know." Josh quirked his forehead a little bit and surveyed his friend briefly. "Remember to tell the truth."

"It's the easiest thing to remember," Sam told him, with the gentle smile of years gone by. 

"Yeah."

"I'll be fine."

"Yeah." Josh hesitated, then patted Sam on the arm and retreated along with Will and Lisa. Sam stepped up and strode across the stage. 

"Senator," a woman accused, "during your term as Senator and your terms in the House, you've promised to help protect us. But very recently this state was the victim of a terrorist attack, and you haven't issued any statement on it at all." 

Sam paused, microphone in hand, and looked at her carefully before he answered. He was fifteen minutes into a thirty-minute question and answer session, and several queries had been remarkably on point, making him a little more tired, a little more careful, than he had been during similar sessions earlier in his career.

But then, he wouldn't have been doing his job correctly if they hadn't been on the ball; there was no point in complaining either aloud or to himself about the success of a strategy and platform that was far, far deeper than politics, that spoke to the heart of America's potential. And this question... he'd expected this one more than any other, perhaps even as the first one.

"What happened in San Diego two days ago--rather, what was done to San Diego two days ago--was a terrible thing. I know words, and there aren't any words for that disaster and attack. I can't tell you who did it or why they targeted what they did, because I don't know. I don't know if we'll ever know. This phrase has been spoken so often that it may not mean anything anymore, but my condolences and thoughts and prayers are truly with the victims, their families, and the city of San Diego. They are also with the state of California and indeed the country and the rest of the world, because a terrorist attack is just that. It has struck fear and the terror that we might be next into the hearts and minds of millions of people."

Josh and Mallory stood watching from the side of the stage, his arm wrapped around her: the two people in the world who knew, if any did, the true mark that the attack had left on Sam. "Say you were in one too," Josh urged in a whisper. He glanced up at the back of the room, where Al was watching alertly. Her lips moved; Josh didn't need to watch her closely to know what she was whispering to herself, about how perfection was impossible.

Sam glanced down very briefly, then looked back up to meet the eyes of the woman who had asked the question, whose eyes were just a little too red and haunted. She took a deep breath, but he pressed on. "What I can tell you, and what I promise to all of you now, again, is that I will continue to do everything in my power to keep this state and this country from ever again being the victim of such a terrible attack. I swear to do everything I can to make sure that everyone's children grow up without fear and that, indeed, America is one of the safest countries in the world.

"But it won't ever be enough. It's impossible to absolutely guarantee, and anyone who does has no idea what they're talking about. It's not an excuse; it's not because there are too many of them. It's not enough because perfection is impossible, and I will never, ever take away from you the freedoms you are guaranteed simply by being born in this country to try and falsely guarantee that you will remain forever safe. Life always carries some risks, and neither I nor anyone else has the right to destroy the foundation of this country in an effort to save it. That applies to everything else, too. We are simply... imperfect. What I want to do and what I want all of you to do is to not yield to that imperfection. It's never enough, but it's our duty as American citizens to give our best anyway, because we have that freedom. 

"Who was next?"

A young man rose. "Senator, you said you'd do your best, but you also said perfection's impossible. How do any of us know that you'll be able to tell the difference? What if you don't do your best?"

"Then I'd suggest not voting for me."

"Besides that." 

Sam smiled. "I guess you'll just have to write me. No, seriously, I'm telling you this because I don't think anyone else will admit to it. It's hard for some people to say that they can't do something, and they make absolute promises that really can't be accomplished without encouraging you to find out the answers or even the questions for yourself. I would rather that you be aware of the issues and conflicts facing all of us and not vote for me because you didn't think I could do it right than be unaware of them and vote for me because you like two sentences I said at a campaign stop that had absolutely nothing to do with my position on anything."

* * *

"And so," Will said softly, "he became the first candidate in possibly ever to admit that it can't ever be enough."

"Then he dropped the bombshell about me," Lisa added. She chuckled. "I was so terrified. I still am, I think. So's Dani, really. It's so, so hard to break the habit of fear, especially when you still have people actually trying to make you afraid."

Carol practically twitched in frustration. "You're getting stuff even now?"

"Well, yeah." Lisa looked over at her with a coy smile. "I am one of those sinful lesbian people that'll corrupt everyone, don't you know?" 

"It's not funny," Justin seethed.

"Oh, Justin. When you have something like this, the only thing you can really do is laugh at it."

"The Senator took you under his protection," he retorted. "He said, in a very public press conference, and then later in other appearances, that any attack or threat against you was an attack on him. He really means that he's okay with you, Lisa. And people are just ignoring that."

"Some of them aren't. The ones that really can't deal with this kind of thing would keep threatening the two of us even if, quite literally, God came down from on high and said that homosexuality is okay now, so I really don't think there's any hope for them not making threats, okay?"

Margaret turned away and hid a snicker. Anne just grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

"As long as you don't have sex on the campaign bus," Donna decreed solemnly.

"Aha!" Lisa aimed a finger at her in mock anger, breaking the mood.

"I say that to everybody," Donna replied. "Right?"

"What are you talking about?" Will asked.

"Sex."

"I think they've all forgotten," Amy noted to Donna.

"Yeah," Donna agreed with a smile that might have been smug. "Excuse me; I'm just going to go check and make sure that my husband hasn't torn out all his hair in the last five minutes."

"How long?" Marcus asked as soon as she was gone.

"Ten minutes," Amy answered, checking her watch. "I'm going to get out there; I want to be in the audience for this. The rest of you watching from backstage?"

"Yeah." Carol stood and gave Amy a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for everything, Amy." The other's dark eyes met hers briefly, the gentle humor in them acknowledging something that was meant for far more than just the campaign.

"You're welcome."

In the stressed silence that followed, Sam went to Carol and sat down, leaning against the older woman's side. Carol wrapped one arm automatically around her, feeling Sam tremble with tension, and glanced at her twin. Al stood with her arms folded, one foot swinging forward to tap the floor, then back for another tap, looking at a board full of names. Will turned around and ran a hand through his hair, thinking about calling Zoey to ask for a last-minute strategy that tied in with Galileo before he remembered that he'd really moved on to his own Galileo some years ago. Anne leaned against a wall, one hand over her face.

There was a knock.

"It's time," Rich told them, sticking his head into the room. "Come on." He turned quizzically to Leandra. "They're in there, right?" 

"Yeah. I think they even heard you. They're just nervous."

"Yeah, we're coming," Will responded. He looked over at Justin. "You got the speech?" 

"Mike and Toby have it," the younger man grimaced. 

"I think they're revising it."

"Yeah." 

"Okay, come on," Margaret directed, looking nervous herself.

"We're coming!"

The brief journey was filled with nervous, quiet chatter, until Lisa asked, "Did the votes go through?"

"Yeah. I mean, we know... but the chairman's going to go up first."

"Right." 

"No, left," Justin tried to joke. Lisa smacked him lightly on the arm. "Okay, that was bad."

"No kidding."

They swarmed into another room, then spread out quietly, facing the candidate, who was flipping through a speech. One of the speeches. After a minute, he took his glasses off and looked around.

"They're all looking at me," he whispered to Josh.

"Yeah."

"Am I supposed to say something?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

"I don't know either. I've never done this before. You're the one who's supposed to know."

"Well, I don't."

"Now you tell me."

"Yeah." 

Sam cleared his throat. "Well, uh, I think I'm supposed to say something now, although I'm not quite sure what, since my very knowledgeable manager here isn't as knowledgeable as he said he was. But I'm hoping very much that we'll be continuing this very fun insanity for another few months."

Leandra and Carol stepped to another door. "He's on stage now," the younger warned.

"Right." Sam turned to Mallory. "Is my tie straight?"

"Yes, but your pants are on backwards." At Sam's alarmed look, she laughed and kissed him. "You look just fine."

"Well, now I don't feel fine," Sam grumped, but he looked over at his two children. "Are you two ready?"

Zach nodded, biting his lip. Joy shifted a little and gave one quick nod. "We're going to stick with Huck and Claudia as long as we can, though."

"Okay." He gave them both a hug, then tugged his suit jacket again and looked over at his running mate. "Ready?"

"Always," Andrea tossed off, glancing at Toby. "Are you sure you don't want to come onstage with me, Pokey?"

"I'm definitely sure I don't want to now," he retorted.

"Are you sure, Dad?" Huck insisted. Toby's eyebrows lifted a little. 

"Yeah. I'll be back here."

"Okay," Huck sighed.

Justin eyed the paper in the Senator's hand. "Is it ready?"

"Yeah."

"You don't want me to-"

Sam smiled. "It's really ready, Justin."

"All right." He subsided.

"Sam," Carol called. "Thirty."

Blue eyes widened. "Yeah." He unbuttoned and rebuttoned his suit jacket, then tried to snatch up half the papers in front of him, instead causing most of them to fall to the floor. There was a flurry as Mike and Anne tried to pick them up and get everything sorted out, and Josh gently pulled Sam away from the table.

"I think we've got it."

"No, that's the other thing," Mike corrected.

"Let me see that."

"No time."

"Great," Sam sighed and closed his eyes. "Just great. That was perfect." 

"It's okay," Mallory whispered.

"Second draft?"

"This is the-"

"And the other page."

"The hell?"

"Come on, people."

"This is definitely it."

"Okay, page two. Where's page one?"

"Right here." 

"I thought that was draft four..."

"Nope." 

"Okay, we've got it."

"Five," Carol warned the room.

"Okay, that, and..." 

"Yep."

"It's too bad I can't see this..."

"Yeah," with a crooked smile.

"Tell me later?"

"Yeah."

"Time," Leandra called. Carol was trying not to laugh.

"We all ready?" Josh checked.

"Yes!" They all straightened, and someone pushed the papers into Sam's hand. Andrea's hand briefly clenched around Toby's arm before she stepped away to stand by Sam and Mallory.

"Do you have the order?" Rich asked Sam.

"Me, Mallory, the kids. Other side of me, Andrea, her kids."

"Right. Good luck, Sam." 

"Thanks, Rich."

"Time!" Leandra and Carol hissed together.

"We're coming." Sam tightened his grip on Mallory's hand and stepped up right behind Carol.

"And with two thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two votes, I am proud to call the winner of this Presidential Democratic National Convention: Senator Sam Seaborn of California!" 

"How many of those people know about Andi?" Sam muttered to Carol.

"Not so many it'll ruin the surprise," she answered dryly. "Get up there."

Josh shoved his best friend lightly. "Nothing you can do," he said simply.

"Yeah." Sam smiled and strode up to the stage. Andrea, Mallory, and the children stopped just out of sight.

"Here it goes," Donna whispered in Josh's ear. He jumped.

"I didn't even know you were there." 

"I'm sneaky like that."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you. I thank you all." Sam waved a little, and the applause rose again. "Thank you. And I thank Governor Narti for a race well run, a race that has been astoundingly respectful from, I think, both our sides. I believe we've set an example for future elections; or at least, I hope we have." The cheers died down a little. "I've been asked many times about my running mate, and since that person has played such an instrumental role in my campaign and all my time in Washington, it would be... unfair of me not to have them up here with me in this moment." He couldn't help it; he paused and took a dramatic breath. Never mind his position on abortion or gay rights or national security, this was a pivotal moment in his campaign. Naming a female vice presidential candidate had sunk other candidates before this, and might well again.

He was probably supposed to say something else, but what came out as a clear shout into the microphone carried its power in simplicity: "Senator Andrea Wyatt of Maryland!" 

Surprise and astonishment are odd sounds in such a crowd. The Maryland delegation immediately exploded with joyful shouting as Andrea came on the stage to stand on Sam's right, as the Illinois delegation sat in utter silence. Huck and Claudia came to stand next to her, both squeezing her hand briefly before stepping back. As the disorganized shouts and cheers grew in other delegations, Mallory walked onto the stage, Zach's hand in hers, and took Sam's hand. Sam lifted her hand and kissed it, smiling at her with utterly bright blue eyes, and turned back to the crowd, taking Andrea's hand. 

"Seaborn/Wyatt for America!" a woman's voice called. Sam glanced down at the front rows, and Amy winked at him. He could see some volunteers and staffers running through the crowd, passing out signs they'd kept in Toby's closet for the last two months. Had he turned, he would have seen Toby watching the stage, watching Andrea, with that small smile that, for him, conveyed a greater joy than any laugh.

More delegations were starting to echo Amy's rallying cry, but this next step of pandemonium was abruptly overturned as every woman in the California and Maryland delegations stood up, fingers to lips, admonishing the rest to be quiet, and started applauding. Amy stood and turned around, mouth open. Andrea tightened her grip on Sam, then thrust their intertwined hands into the air in a triumphant gesture, even as her eyes glimmered in astonishment.

"Oh," Mal murmured. "Sam."

"Yeah," he whispered back, raising their hands and trying to kiss her and keep his other hand in the air all at the same time. Applause was starting to ripple through more and more delegations, overtaking the normal shouting and cheering. The women from New York, New Hampshire, Connecticut and Massachusetts were all standing, and the effect was moving across the mass of people.

"I'm glad you're the one delivering a speech," Andi whispered to Sam. He turned and smiled at her, then kissed her softly on one cheek.

"New policy this year," he whispered back. "VP candidates deliver the acceptance speech." 

Andrea laughed. "I'm going to kick your ass, Samuel." The glimmer in her eyes and nervous quiver in her voice was gone, though.

"That's my job," Mallory corrected from the other side of Sam.

"Please tell me this mike is off," Sam muttered.

"It's off."

"Thank you," he called after a few minutes. "Thank you!"

"You want the mike on now," Claudia murmured. He shot her a look. She just turned a little and nodded once. "Remote," she added. 

"Ah." Sam waited a moment more. "Thank you!" he called again, simultaneously working to revise the start of his speech, and considering whether it really did need to be revised. They had never, in the most extremely optimistic of possibilities, considered that every woman in the room would wind up on her feet. 

_'I trust you to run for anything and believe in the right things.'_

_'Sometimes you have to know the whole truth about something...'_

_'You have to let me protect you, and you have to let me protect the President!'_

_'You have to let us protect you, sir!'_

_'Sixty-five percent of those polled...'_

Sam closed his eyes. He would not, he would _not_, weep while accepting his party's nomination for President.

He probably would later, though. One more step from this, just a few more months, and that argument would fade to stillness. _'I'm telling you it's not for nothing, Sam, not by a long shot!'_

The words were right in front of him. Toby's words with Justin's with Mike's with CJ's and everybody else's, from the team they had formed anew, just as Leo and Jed had reminded him that it was everyone's strategy.

Words... the words he wanted everyone to be able to understand completely.

"The very core of my campaign has been the idea that we're better for having asked a question, for having tried to answer someone else's question. The cornerstone of that is the extraordinary and yet basic premise that it's possible to have a country where we all try to do those two things; a place where no one gets left behind; there's simply no need for it." He paused and sighed, very quietly, so that hardly anyone heard him, imagining Toby rolling his eyes and Justin clutching his hair and Mike rolling her eyes. Just at the point where he imagined Justin would be muttering about tearing his own hair out, he spoke again, voice rich with his own poet's soul and Justin's upwelling of prose.

"My America will be a place where all the people of this country can come together, where we can all challenge each other to be proud to call ourselves Americans. It will be a place where we all vow and we all try not to leave anyone behind, where we can truly become a diverse and proud nation. There'll be problems, there'll be setbacks and conflicts and everything else, but I ask you today to make this promise with me: that we shall try. We will try to provide the most basic needs and skills for everyone. We will try to encourage ourselves to all know enough to make the choice, because all too often we make a choice without knowing enough. We will dare each other to make this country a better place to live, for this generation, and for the next, and for the next one after that." Sam paused again for a breath, and squeezed Mallory and Andrea's hands.

"It won't ever be enough, but that's no reason not to try, and try harder. I call on all of you to believe in this, and to make this effort with me, so that no one is left behind. I am Samuel Norman Seaborn of California, and I accept your nomination for President of the United States."


	41. They Say A Good Man Can't Get Elected

A/N: Nope, this isn't the end either! Enjoy, and don't fall asleep.

_They Say A Good Man Can't Get Elected President_

There was something golden and glowing about the weeks that followed. The convention, the moment when Sam had announced he would be running with Andrea Wyatt and every person in the room knew that this partnership was a true run for the White House and not a symbolic gesture, had reinforced their rising belief that this was possible and necessary and very much worth everything. Mentioning the announcement became code for 'remember when every woman in the room stood up?', and almost superseded 'Seaborn for America' and 'we reach for the stars' in power of inspiration.

Sam had indeed sat down and wept later, in the deep hours of the night after the convention crowd had filtered out into the streets of the city to celebrate a victory and to anticipate another. Still high from the nomination and applause and pure sense of triumph, many of the staff, old and new, had made their way to the room where Sam sat in dimness, just sitting and letting Mallory rub his back. Josh immediately went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, whispers of pride in his eyes, and sat down on Sam's other side, silently guarding. One by one, they all sat or stood in silence, the old ones remembering and the newer staffers, even Mike, watching their candidate with slow understanding dawning... and a fierce admiration rising in the midst of it.

Not a bit of that would dim in the long and rushed weeks between the convention and November, and they all needed every bit of it, as President Haffley remarked in the week following that "Perhaps Mr. Seaborn will change his mind later, now that he's made his grand gesture to garner the women's vote." A small flurry of pointed appearances and not quite happenstance press conferences by several leading Republicans followed.

"They knew."

"Yeah."

"I'm saying they knew!"

"I heard you."

"Dammit, they knew!"

"Yeah."

"Why aren't you pissed off about this?"

"Because..." 

"Leave him alone."

"No."

"Um, he's the nominee."

"Yeah, but I get to do this." 

"Because I'm not!"

"Because you're in charge?" Anne shot at Josh.

"Yes! Why aren't you?" 

"It's a pointless attack and I think they know it." Sam snatched a fry and leaned back.

"What am I missing?" Josh demanded. "Is there some magical thing you're going to pull out of your hat to kick Haffley's ass for this?"

"No." 

"What am I-"

"Annie?" Sam prompted.

"Don't call me Annie."

"Sorry." Sam raised his eyebrows a little and looked at her wryly.

"Yeah." She paused and shook her head at Josh a little bit. "He doesn't need to worry about it, Josh."

"Why not?" 

"Because he, and by extension the Democratic Party, did something visible and very concrete to help... correct or make up for or whatever inadequate phrasing you want to use-"

"Hey!" Sam objected.

"Women are still pissed off, Sam." 

"Too much?"

"I think you can expect some old time party leaders to be pretty heavily dissed for the next few years, yeah. Anyway, Sam did something actual, something that said, hey, I do think women should be and are equal, and I'm going to make one of the most powerful women in politics my running mate, and we're going to do everything we can to make sure nothing like this happens again. It's the same as when he announced it via Danny and his reporter kids."

"How did I miss that?" Josh demanded of Sam.

"I don't know, Josh; maybe Anne's smarter than you are."

"That's a scary concept." 

"Yeah."

"So, if I were you, I'd be worrying about what they're, and by that I mean either the President or the Republican leadership, is going to come up with next when this doesn't get them more than a two or three point bump in the polls." 

"Nationwide?"

"Mmm, they might get a five or six point bump in the South. Probably go down in Maryland, California, and New York, though."

"Why New York?" 

"Because they're just generally pissed off, Josh." 

"Whatever for?"

"They just are." 

"Okay."

"What do we do next?" 

"I think we should wait for their next move," Josh advised Anne in a casual tone.

"Because a dignified silence is the best response here?" Sam queried.

"Yeah." 

Anne sighed a little. "Okay, what do you think their next move is likely to be?"

Josh's expression became somewhat cranky. "I think they're going to pull out the... you know, the thing."

"Which thing?"

"The, uh, morality thing."

"Laurie?" she asked skeptically.

"No. The-"

"Josh, can't you even say it?"

"No!"

"Until one of you can say it, you're forever going to be haunted by it!" she retorted. "Josh, you've got to be able to say it. Sam, you must, you absolutely must, be able to say it, or you're going to get killed in the debate. You can't let this continue to rule you!" 

"Okay, Anne," Sam agreed calmly. "So what is it?"

She stared back at him. "You can't let the pro life/pro choice issue be the seventeen-ton pink elephant in the room, Sam. I know it's CJ. I know what it is. How could I not?" Her voice caught suddenly. "My grandfather cried that spring, Sam. He held me and wept, Josh. Knowing what CJ did to get him reelected, to undo what the MS revelation had done to his Presidency and his campaign... I can't even tell you how much that hurt him. He cried in front of me because I wasn't grown yet, and I couldn't know, really, what had happened, and because he knew that because of what CJ did, there was a chance, just a chance, that I might be part of a generation of women that started to see more equality and less fear. I know what haunts you, Sam, the fear that you'll lose this election. I know what haunts you, Josh, the fear that you somehow won't surpass CJ's dedication to a campaign that started when I was fifteen." 

As the two of them stared at her, mouths open in shock, eyes wide, she gathered up her folders with apparent calm.

"Don't forget about the kids. I've got a thing for the Plains States." 

"He knows I'm still afraid of that, doesn't he?" Sam asked a few minutes later, voice very quiet.

"Haffley?" Josh checked. "Yeah, I think he knows."

Sam's lips tightened in grim triumph. "Let's let him continue to think that until the debate, Josh."

"The first one?" 

"Yeah."

"That's still cutting it pretty close."

"Yes, well... if it becomes this huge, monstrous thing, we can look at it again. Otherwise... as far as the President is concerned, Anne never yelled at us about this." 

"You're still on the nomination high, right?" Josh asked his friend with a smile.

"Oh, yeah," Sam grinned. "I've never felt this way before, Josh. I'm ready."

* * *

"Well, what do you think?" Mallory asked Rich. 

He rotated in place a little and raised his eyebrows. "I don't know, Mallory. What color are the flowers?"

"They're not all one color," she responded dryly.

"So that's one step in the right direction."

Mal found herself working to suppress a giggle, and abandoned her frustrated stance. "Two each of red, white, and blue at each table. The tablecloths are white and the napkins are blue."

"And the crepe?"

"Red."

"So we've got the patriotism theme down. Excellent." He tilted his head a little and seemed to gaze off into the distance. "Is there anything that looks wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"Something that doesn't seem to belong," he prompted.

Mal took a breath. "To be honest, I actually don't like the red crepe very much, Rich."

"Why not?"

"It looks overdone." But her brows were knit.

Rich picked up on her tone, and prompted, "Besides that?"

"It looks like too much red, that's all."

"San Diego?" he prodded gently. Mallory nodded vigorously.

"Twenty percent of our guest list is from southern California. And... it really does look overdone."

"Hmm. I'll have to remember that." He considered for a moment, then nodded briefly. "Okay, let's have them take the red crepe out of the main area. I'm sure we can find some other place to put it, or they can... Jess!"

"Yeah?"

"Ask them to take the red crepe down, please, and find somewhere a little more subtle for it," he directed, turning in her direction. "Also, they need to move the speakers. Anything else?" he asked Mallory. 

"I think we're good."

"Thanks, Jess. And we want to use the crepe if possible; no point in wasting it. They can combine it with any white and blue they may have around if they want, as long as it looks like something for a Presidential nominee, not a school party."

"Right. Already on it." Jess finished her hasty scribble on her clipboard and vanished into the hallway.

"You sound unimpressed," Mallory prompted.

"Just a little bit," he admitted. "I don't like the acoustics in here very much, for one thing, and it's almost 2 already, isn't it?"

"Yes." 

"They were supposed to have this ready for us to look over before noon."

"True." Mallory glanced over at her husband's staffer. "But you think it'll be okay?" 

"Yeah, I think they're good enough, just not very good." Rich grimaced a little. "But I've got three other places to clear today, plus five places to okay the final plans for, so I think good enough will have to do."

"In that case, let's go."

"Don't sound so eager," he recommended. "You have to come back here, after all."

"I don't sound any more eager to leave here than I do the thousand other event setups I've checked on the campaign trail already," she retorted.

Rich chuckled. "You do realize you're running for what some consider the ultimate event setup, right?"

"I was trying not to think about that too much," Mal replied precisely.

* * *

"Which thing are we doing?"

"Hmm?" 

"I said," Will repeated, "which thing are we doing today?"

Carol looked up from her notebook. "The thing for today."

"I know that."

"We're waiting for Anne."

"Right."

Carol sighed, as though feeling the weight of an election that was now less than three months away. "Strategy, Will."

"I never would have guessed," he returned dryly.

"I'm clever like that," she replied. Stretching a little, she continued, "We're redoing a couple of our regional strategies." 

"Fantastic."

"He's not going to address it anytime soon, Amy."

"Anne, he can't get much further without a position on this. I should know."

"I don't disagree with you at all, Amy; I'm just telling you what's going to happen if you bring it up."

"Nothing?" 

"Well, yeah, until he climbs out from behind the wall a little bit, nothing is just about right."

"Will the two of you please come in?" Carol shouted.

"Sure." The two women strode in. "I also don't think you're the best person to insist Sam get a position on this, Amy, since you've had a... discussion about it before."

"I was going to say a small argument, although the arguing was more on Josh's part." 

"What's going on?" Carol requested. Amy turned to her.

"I'm trying to convince Anne that Sam needs to have a position on the moral issues, and with this election, as with just about every other election for the past forty years, that means a position on abortion."

"And she won't give it to you?"

"And she won't give it to me," Amy confirmed.

"Our strategy of this really isn't necessarily our business isn't working its charming way into the hearts of the American public?" Carol wanted to know, mouth quivering dangerously close to a smile.

"I wasn't aware we even had that level of strategy."

"Amy," Anne sighed. "It's gonna be fine."

"It's not!" 

"It's really going to be fine."

"Anne, I have three or four women's groups on the verge of going with a third-party candidate because Sam won't give his position on this. He's been harassed by Republican leadership about it since he won the nomination and hasn't made so much as a whisper in response. I need to tell them something."

"What's the overall tone from NOW and the League?" Carol asked her. Amy pursed her lips. 

"They want to like him. I mean, they really do. I want them to like him. But whether you want it to or not, Carol, this is a big player in elections and whether or not groups like NOW endorse a candidate, and they're not happy."

"Are they actively unhappy, or just not happy?" Will inquired.

"Edging toward actively unhappy," Amy answered.

"Excellent," Carol said quietly, smiling. "Can you keep them that way for a couple more weeks?"

"Maybe."

"Please?" Anne added. Amy lifted a suspicious eyebrow, but nodded.

"I'll see you later."

"Hi, Amy," Al greeted. "Careful, Justin."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Are you writing in your sleep yet?" Will asked the younger man. He grinned a little sheepishly.

"It's not out of the question. Hey, Amy."

"Justin, Al. Everything going good?"

"Mmm, I think so."

"Good." 

"I need to go check on Rich and make sure the scheduling isn't driving him crazy," Carol said, standing. "Good luck with the thing."

"Hey," Will protested.

"We need something waiting in the wings," Anne told them as Carol closed the door.

Justin rubbed his head with one hand. "Okay."

"If you keep that up, you're going to be as bald as Toby by Election Day," Will advised.

"Sorry." 

"It's up to you; I'm just letting you know."

"If we could focus on strategy instead of Justin's follicles for a minute?" Anne requested sharply while shooting a small smile at them.

"What am I doing here?" Al asked.

"You came in with Justin."

"Besides that."

"We need your belief."

"I'm a Catholic-Protestant-Jewish mutt, but thanks anyway," she replied, one eyebrow quirked skeptically.

"No," Anne sighed. "I mean your belief."

"Claudia was the one that said that."

"You had your own share of beliefs that day," Will reminded gently. Her blue eyes flicked his way in annoyance.

"Yes, I told Uncle Sam that he had helped raise us to believe... in the impossible, what was right, what was hard, and that even after all we knew, and a little bit because of it, we still believed. We all said something about belief."

"We need that," Anne repeated softly. 

"Why?"

Anne met her eyes directly. "Because when Sam gives his answer on the abortion issue and one or two other things he's been avoiding, we have to make other people believe what he's saying and what we're saying in any press conferences." 

"Why has he been avoiding them?"

Anne just looked back at her. Al stood up. "Yeah. I'm going to go work on this thing."

"I'll come with you," Will volunteered.

"Okay."

Justin looked over at Anne in puzzlement for a couple of minutes before more people came in.

"That wasn't quite how I was hoping that would go," she sighed just as Margaret opened the door, followed by Marcus. 

"Anne, the schedules-"

"Not again." 

"Yes," she confirmed. Anne put a hand to her head. 

"Justin, you don't need to worry about this; we'll get it sorted out. Go do the platform stuff."

"Revised?" Marcus asked worriedly, looking at Justin's retreating back. 

"That's what Sam and Josh wanted," Anne told him. "Margaret, the schedule?"

"Yeah. We need to either move the debate or the D-Triple-C fundraiser."

Anne closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "What kind of idiotic, amateurish-"

"Um, hi," Marcus said nervously. Anne's eyes snapped open to impale him, and he winced and shuffled backward a little bit.

"Marcus, I know you're still freaking out, but you've got to stop, or you're going to cause more. You've got to read the calendar before you put stuff in, dammit!"

"Sorry," he offered, looking truly contrite. She sighed.

"You can still work under Lisa or Rich, you know."

"Yeah." 

"Margaret, let's try to find someone of sufficient... stature or whatever to send to the fundraiser so we don't have to move it. Otherwise, move it. It's the first national Presidential debate; I'm sure they'll understand."

"Actually, they're involved with Congress, so I'm not sure they will, but I'll do my best."

"Anne, war room," Leandra announced, sticking her head in. Anne blinked and shook her head. 

"Huh?"

"Carol needs you in the war room."

"She really does," Donna added, appearing beside Leena. "Right now."

"Great. Margaret, do that thing, let's go... Marcus, can you take that call, please?"

"That one?" he asked.

"Yes. Don't screw it up." Finally managing to get all her folders closed, Anne strode down the hall toward the war room with the others. Carol stood and faced her as soon as the door opened, face tight and unhappy.

"Close the door."

"Attack ad?"

"Yeah."

"Let's see it," Anne directed. "Did we just get this?"

"Yeah. Nobody else has seen it yet."

"Let's get the writers and PR in here, possibly with Josh, right after we watch, okay?"

"I've got it," Margaret confirmed preemptively from her spot by the door.

"Thanks. Let's see it."

* * *

"Leave me alone," Andi directed.

"Andi-" the other woman protested.

"You need to give this a rest," the candidate ordered, turning her head a little to stare down at Amy. "There are a million other issues on Sam's plate right now, and... why the hell are you talking to me about this, anyway?"

"You're his running mate and you're a woman."

"Thanks for pointing that out."

"I didn't mean-"

Andrea stopped and turned to face Amy Gardner squarely. "This issue," she advised softly, "is not going to rule this election because of me."

"I wasn't saying it should," Amy responded, taking a small step back.

"Good."

"But at the same time, he can't just not say anything."

"Sam will say something when he wants to. In the meantime, he's achieving a solid base with other issues that are a little easier to break down the dichotomy on, and are also more fun, so I think we're doing fine. Polls are showing that this campaign has created an unprecedented awareness of issues that are actually going to affect everyone in this country, and which furthermore are actually their business, and this is not going to derail that."

"Wow." 

"Yes?" Andi prompted.

"I didn't think you really believed any of that."

Andrea's mouth tightened. "Sam's idealism is contagious, first of all, and second, if you didn't think I believed that, why were you talking to me in the first place? Third... you know perfectly well why Sam hasn't taken this issue at full speed like he has all the others, from the good to the ugly. Fourth, Sam has enough belief in everyone for both of us."

"Okay," Amy said, but skepticism remained in her eyes. "I just promised." 

"Really."

"I did," she insisted. 

"Then have a little faith," Andrea suggested, mouth quirking upward, before she strode away, her detail moving around her. Amy stood still for a moment, irresolute, then tried to catch up.

She heard Andi's murmur before she came around the corner.

"What happened?"

"There were bad things about Dad," Joy's voice came back before they came into sight; Andrea knelt on the floor with a hand on Joy and Zach, all their details trying to achieve the right distance. The girl rubbed her brother's arm soothingly. "Zach started imagining things."

"It was a nightmare," the nine-year-old contradicted, rubbing his sleeve across his nose. 

"What about?" Andi asked.

"I thought bad things were happening to Dad because of the terrible things they were saying about him," Zach answered, leaning against Andi a little.

"Joy?" she prompted. The girl stared down at the floor.

"I hate mudslinging, but it was the really bad and good mudslinging, you know?" Her voice quivered a little. "I think Dad does good, but they were so good at making him look bad."

"Who?"

"The Center for American Values. There was something about eroding our trust, and Grandpa Jed, and they were saying he's really against American freedom because he didn't support President Haffley going into those countries a few years ago, and something about you I didn't understand."

Andrea sighed. "Shh," she whispered. "It's okay. They were talking about me having kids when I wasn't married to Toby, right?"

"Yeah." 

"Well... no, I don't think I do measure up to their values. But I also think that demanding all Americans follow one set of values contradicts the idea of America, don't you?"

"Yeah." 

"See, it's okay. They're just trying to make you think that one group can represent how America's supposed to be." 

"Is everyone going to think of that?" Zach asked quietly.

"No." Andrea pulled them into a hug. "Where's your mom?"

Joy's brow wrinkled. "I'm not sure."

Andi turned to one of their agents. "Can you find Mallory, please?"

"Yes, ma'am." Andrea suppressed a small shiver as she turned back to the children. Between the three of them, there were about a dozen agents within twenty feet. No wonder the ad had made them cry.

"We're going to go to your mom, okay?" she told them, standing up and tugging at the two gently.

"Is she going to make it stop?" Joy asked simplistically, but with a glint in her eye. 

Andrea's mouth quirked at the mental image. It was entirely possible Mallory hadn't seen the attack ad yet, but when she did... oh, yes, it was quite possible she would make it stop. "Maybe. This is something that happens, and it's unusual to get to this point in a campaign before the first time. But maybe someone will make it stop."

"Good," Zach declared fervently, clinging to Andrea's hand.

* * *

"You started it," Jed accused.

Leo's forehead wrinkled in puzzled denial as his eyes sparkled. "I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"I may have set the ball in motion, but..."

"Leo, look at this." Jed gestured at the busy room around them, at the busy rooms next to them. "Do you really want to deny responsibility for such a beautiful thing?"

"Yeah, 'cause I didn't start it."

"Josh, tell this man he's being an idiot."

"No, I don't think I will," Josh declined, coming to stand with one hand on the former President's wheelchair.

"That's an order."

"Jed, I've been ignoring your orders for quite a while now," the younger man replied, a hint of mirth bubbling up.

"Yeah, forget it. Leo, seriously."

"This is because you told Jed that a good man could get elected."

"And look where we are now." Leo held a hand toward the room. "It was there, Josh, or it wouldn't have happened. I didn't start it." 

"Yeah." Josh exhaled loudly.

"How you doing?" Jed checked.

"Good. I'm doing good." 

"And if I call Abbey over here, what is she going to say?"

"She's probably going to tell all of us we're being stupid."

"Damn straight."

"I'm doing all right. I think Carol, Will, and Anne went pretty crazy, leaving aside how insane I drove Donna-"

"Ah, you've been driving her insane for almost twenty years." 

"Damn, now I feel old." Josh looked down at them affectionately.

"About time."

"I think they were okay with being driven crazy."

"Like we had any choice," Donna said, appearing to stand next to him and giving her husband a smack on the arm. "It's getting close, Josh. Jed, Leo, are you watching from the audience?"

The two old men exchanged a glance. "Well," Leo started, "if you think we can watch from the room without getting run over by your over exuberant staff..."

"They are not over exuberant."

"It's a justifiable exuberance." 

"That's a nice word," Josh murmured to Donna. 

"Like you'd know."

"Ahem." 

"We'd love to have you watch from the room," Donna told them.

"You don't want to be in the electric atmosphere of the actual debate hall?" Josh queried, tilting his head. Jed grinned.

"Well, I do, but both Leo and Abbey are afraid that if I actually go in there, I might somehow get up on the stage and start scolding Haffley, and then we'd all be in trouble."

"Josh!" Anne shouted at him. "Countdown!"

"Give us a minute," Donna called back.

"She's a troublemaker," Jed declared with mock disappointment, shaking his head.

"No," Leo denied. "The real troublemakers are my daughter, your youngest daughter, and the lovely VP candidate. They're heading for the public eye. Anne can only cause internal trouble, like being smarter than Josh."

"Someone has to do it," Donna noted dryly. "Come on, Josh. We'll let everyone know not to run into you."

"Thanks." Jed nodded. "And send Sam over here if there's a chance, will you?"

"Yeah." Josh and Donna's hands twined together absently, and they strode across the room.

"Where do you want me?" 

"Well..." Josh laid one hand on her hip.

"During the debate," she clarified, chuckling and letting one hand rest against his neck.

"Mmm, right here."

"Josh," she sighed.

"To keep me from doing stupid things in my triumph when Sam crushes Haffley."

"Why didn't you just say so?"

"I thought it went without saying." 

"I'm leaving you with Anne."

"No." Donna just rolled her eyes and pulled at his arm.

"Anne!" 

"Yes?"

"You're in charge of Josh for the debate."

"What did he do now?" 

"Nothing!"

"Just because."

"Is this a rite of passage thing I haven't heard about yet?" 

"Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna be just fine," protested Josh.

"Okay," Donna sighed. "I think I have a thing to check on."

Toby approached one of the candidates quietly. "You know, people have been saying we should get married again."

Andrea started, then rotated casually to face him. "And?" she prompted.

He shrugged.

"I know what people have been saying." 

"And yet you refuse to take action."

"I'm running for Vice-President of the United States, Toby. I think that's some action."

"About your marital status." 

"Which is divorced." She blew out a harsh sigh. "Toby, is this something you actually want, or are you attempting to alert me to a potential PR disaster?"

"I'm not sure."

"I'm pretty sure that remarrying less than two months before the election just to be married wouldn't really help with any possible disasters, Toby. It's possible people might connect the two."

He quirked both eyebrows upward and regarded her. "As long as you're comfortable with that." 

"Toby?"

"Yes?"

"What are you going to do after the election?"

His lips twitched a little. "Write Sam's speeches. Argue with Mike about the proper placement of verbs. Tell Justin to stop pulling out his own hair."

"Pokey, are you tempting the wrath from high atop the thing?"

"It's okay for me to do it." 

"Ah." She nodded, a faint smirk curving her lips. 

"I'm not sure." He rocked back and forth for a moment. "But I wanted to ask you the question."

"I'm fine." She stretched her hand out to him. "Thanks." 

Leandra ran back from the stage and took a few deep breaths before speaking. Everything was set there; it looked wonderful and just like the practice hall.

And she was terrified. 

"Senator?"

Sam pushed his glasses up a little and nodded at Mike, who snatched the sheaf of papers before he could get them all over the floor again. "Yes?"

"Five minutes, Senator." Her lips parted in anxiety, and she gave him a worried look.

"Thank you."

Leena nodded at Carol, who smiled and gave her a thumbs up before turning to Lisa and nodding.

Lisa just nodded back. "Press and experts are prepped. Rich?"

"Check. Jess?"

"No changes."

"Anne?" Carol called.

"Rich, are the regional feeds set?"

"They were half an hour ago."

Anne sighed a little. "Okay, then. Mike?"

"Issues prepped, Anne."

"Justin?" 

"I have five speeches."

"Please tell me those aren't all for tonight."

A small pause. "I don't think so," wryly.

"Thank God. Will, Marcus?" 

"What are we doing again?"

"Ensuring the physical integrity of the room," Donna tossed off. 

"Samantha and Abigail?" Carol inquired. The twins looked up from a table.

"Check," Sam responded, grabbing a clipboard.

"We've got it," Al elaborated. "Two minutes."

Sam gripped Mallory's hand a little tighter. "It's fine," she whispered.

Sam parted his lips to speak, but couldn't. He nodded over at Josh instead. Josh grinned, the beautiful 'we did something good' look, and nodded back. "Okay, you guys, we're gonna give them the room."

Almost everyone was speechless on the way out of the room; grinning and bursting with excited anticipation, they could only give him a thumbs up or start to stammer something inarticulate. "Good luck, Spanky," Carol told him, laying one hand on his chest.

Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so he took Carol's hand in his own and squeezed it gently. "Thanks. I think."

"Knock 'em down?" she suggested. 

"Yeah."

"Good luck."

"Nothing you can do," Josh said softly.

"You'll be watching all of it, right?" Sam asked. Josh started to speak, but smiled instead and went out of the room.

"They love you," Mal said softly, turning him to face her and rubbing his arms. 

"Yeah." He leaned to rest his head on hers. "Yeah." 

"So enough dawdling," she admonished. Sam chuckled. 

"Yes, ma'am."

"You bet." She kissed him softly. "Go do your thing."

He looked over at the other three occupants of the room.

"Get out of here before I come over there and act like a doctor," Abbey scolded, one hand on her husband's shoulder and proud tears glimmering with her smile.

"Make us proud, Sam," Jed directed mildly.

"Yes, sir." The former President shook his head with a smile.

"You know what to do, son," Leo said softly. "Go do it."

Sam straightened. "I will." He strode into the hallway. 

"Sam?" Anne checked.

"Let's go." 

"Get up there," Carol nudged. Lisa shot her a terrified look.

"I thought you were going to do this." 

"You step up enough to see President Haffley's press person. You both nod when your guy's ready to go on stage. It's not that hard." Carol set one hand lightly on her shoulder. "You'll be fine."

"Right." Lisa stepped ahead of them, ahead of Sam and Mallory, and held out one hand toward the Senator. She could see someone hovering on the opposite side of the stage--Bill, was that his name--was looking across. He turned back and said something, making a disgusted face. She could see him roll his eyes as he turned to face her again, separated by two podiums and dogma and too much to name, and her spine stiffened, face becoming a mask.

_You wanted to come out,_ she reminded herself, as he nodded at her. She glanced back, to find Sam almost bouncing in place. Lisa nodded across the stage, beckoning Sam forward. Mallory stood on tiptoe to give him one last kiss, and his posture became more formal, expression turning solemn and focused, as he stepped forward.

"Good job," Carol whispered from behind her.

"I don't think we should make laws on that based on our own beliefs; I'd rather that we took a more realistic attitude to begin with, lessening the need for such laws."

"Uh-oh," Jed noted from the room. Toby clapped a hand to his face in dismay, a gesture identical to dozens he'd made during Jed's Presidency. Andi drew a breath, putting one hand in front of her mouth.

"Oh, hell," Josh murmured. "Anne?"

"He didn't just do that..." she trailed off as the moderator asked Sam if that was entirety of his response. "Oh, God. He did. What is he-?"

"He said he'd be ready."

"He told me he was ready," Mike added from a few feet away. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know." Sam affirmed that was his response, and the camera switched to President Haffley, who looked somewhat smug.

They couldn't see the betraying glimmer in Sam's eyes; only Mallory and Samantha and Abigail, and Margaret, who had slipped into a seat at the back, could see something building. Sam quickly typed a message and sent it to Josh.

"What?" Donna asked him.

"Samantha said not to panic." He swallowed and looked at the monitor again.

The President had let ten of his allotted sixty seconds go by, letting the pressure and awkwardness build, before he spoke. "Senator," he began, turning to Sam, "I'm supposed to be using this time for a question. Here it is. Don't you think it's a disgrace that someone like you, who's dedicated so much time to educational initiatives and health care and the like from the grassroots level, can't be bothered to take a stand on an issue that could have saved the life of your colleague, even though it would have killed the two girls who have grown up almost as your own daughters? Don't you think you owe the American people, if not me, an answer on this issue you've refused to address so many times?" 

The Republicans had definitely known, and Jeff Haffley wasn't lacking in intelligence.

He just hadn't bet on Anne and Josh and Sam knowing they knew, or on Anne scolding the two of them, giving Sam the time to prepare for this.

"Come on," Carol whispered, watching something in Sam build and become fierce and determined.

"Wow," Sam noted quietly. "That's quite a question, Mr. President. I don't know if I can respond to it adequately in the time allotted. However, you deserve a response, so here it is. This country was founded on the idea of freedom, the freedom to make certain personal choices, including religion. Only when we can come together and discuss the issue of abortion and why women of all backgrounds continue to examine it as a choice without the veil of religion hanging over us can we truly establish a position on it. Only when we've established sex as a reasonable consensual act can we properly advise our young people on how to prevent that terrible choice from facing them, just as we must first accept that rape and incest are not consensual or some responsibility of the one assaulted. My position on abortion is that CJ made a courageous and risky choice, and I love her daughters very much. None of the three would ever want another woman to feel that choice denied to her because half the country seems to feel they need to pass judgment on what the other half's doing. This is deeper than that, Mr. President. It's about facing our own choices as a country and realizing that puritanical values are individual, not national, and letting the facts spread rather than an aura of fear and secrecy and shame."

Anne sat down on the floor with a thump. "Did he just do that?" she asked no one in particular. They were too busy gaping at the monitor to hear her.

"Yes!" Josh pumped one fist in the air.

"The debate's not over yet," Donna cautioned, pulling his arm down.

"The important part is."

"That's going to polarize the country," Anne predicted, blinking a little.

"Yeah," Donna agreed.

"The people that were for him will become more for him, and... this could polarize along party lines again." 

"But he didn't say the people on the right couldn't believe that abortions are wrong," Mike noted. "He just said they weren't allowed to use their religion to force that on the rest of the country. Personally, I think that's kind of good, along with the whole thing about it being okay to have sex without the intent of having children."

"Sex without kids is fine," Josh responded. Donna hit him on the arm. "Ow." 

"No wonder we still don't let you talk to the press much," she scolded. "Anne?"

"Yeah?" 

"Since Josh is out right now, could you track down someone from press and take apart Sam's response a bit, please?" 

"Carol, Lisa, or Leandra?"

"Any or all."

"I'm on it." Anne stood up slowly and backed out of the room, still gaping at the screen.

Sam wondered if this was what Jed had felt during his debates, this singing energy that poured out of his mind and soul, driving his responses with force and truth and belief, the beauty of possibility. 

Beautiful. This was what politics could be, should be, could have been for so long before now. A stunning act of courage that would define generations of the American spirit by leaving that spirit undefined by religion or ethnicity or education or career, by anything other than the simple 'I am a free American.'

"That's because, Mr. President, everyone deserves an equal education. It doesn't matter if they learn differently, but it does matter that we make every effort to acknowledge their intelligence. Have you seen the kids with no hope in their eyes because the system tells them they're doomed to failure before they even start, or the girls who are afraid to get good grades because their family or friends tell them their success is based on how pretty they look? I have, and it's just wrong. It's just absolutely wrong to not grant them that freedom. Of course it's expensive; good education is supposed to be expensive. What I want is for everyone to be educated on education, if you'll pardon the expression, and participate in it, make it a cooperative venture and convince everyone that what they want really is possible. And it must start at the earliest levels and continue through high school, because otherwise we're just abandoning the next generation to the vagaries of a system that's still undergoing renovation from the time it was set up to educate millions of immigrant children over one hundred years ago."

Something infinitely precious. It was what he'd learned in Spokane and Birmingham and Redding, in Flint and St. Louis and Denver, from Bangor to San Diego to Maui to Fairbanks to Tampa. People couldn't want something unless they knew it was a possibility, and once they knew it was a possibility... the chance of safety; of knowledge; of breathing air that didn't make their kids sick; of knowing there was more to see and feel in their country than the little park two blocks away, that nature was a joy, the true American crown; of purely, simply, seeing the possibilities.

Of seeing that different was just that, different, and everybody was different, that the word unique went along with saying 'I am a free American' and being human. 

"I don't think, Mr. President, that it's really anyone's business."

"Mr. Seaborn-"

"No, sir, excuse me. I'm sure Lisa Pumakin is grateful for the free attention and press yet again, as is her significant other. What I'd like to know is how the knowledge that Lisa's lesbian affects her ability to do her job and play a leading role in politics. Are some people afraid that if they look at someone who's lesbian or gay they'll become one? Do you trust your own beliefs and sexuality so little that you can't even be exposed to it? What about the fact that Lisa kisses another woman every night when she comes home from working at my campaign makes her so strange, except the fact that she might have to kiss tears away because they've gotten more death threats again for daring not to hide? Lisa's wit, kindness, intelligence, and most of all her courage have made her a great asset to my campaign, and the only reason I'm stopping now is because she's probably blushing furiously back there because of all the attention." 

"Mr. Seaborn, I have to ask you what people think of your endorsing of the homosexual agenda when you have children and want to set a good example for them and for other's children as well." The President had this vaguely disgusted look on his face; that and the phrasing told Sam that his heart wasn't really in this, that he was doing it for the morality and family values thing, and the urge to laugh welled up.

"Mr. President, have you ever watched the movie _Philadelphia_?" Sam queried, knowing that somewhere in the upper backstage area, Carol was clutching her hair despairingly and Lisa was grinning like an idiot. 

"I can't say that I have, no."

"Permit me to paraphrase a crucial sentence, then, sir. The Founding Fathers said that all men and women are created equal, not that all straight men and women are created equal."

There was a soft silence, and Haffley looked down.

"I think, Mr. President, that when we can debate this issue without bringing your party's continued quoting of the Bible into play, we'll find it's a whole lot easier, because by then it'll become evident that sexual orientation has nothing to do with someone's level of freedom, just as it'll become evident that without the Bible as evidence in this country where freedom of religion has been granted for over two centuries, there is no wall of objection to people who love people of the same sex having the same rights. They're just another free group of Americans."

"Punctuation," Toby mumbled disparagingly.

"Was that what it sounded like?" Rich demanded.

"A run-on sentence?"

"Holy shit, I'm not sure that just happened. Did that just happen? Did Sam just do that? I don't even know what to call that." Mike put a hand to her forehead, as though unsure she'd just babbled all that. 

"Bad grammar," Toby insisted.

"Quit trying to hide your enthusiasm and excitement behind your linguistic snobbery, Toby," Mike directed. "And Rich, yeah, I think that was what it sounded like."

"A politer version of Josh's classic 'Senator, take your legislative agenda and shove it up your ass'?"

"Huh?" Josh wanted to know, eyes still fixed on the screen. Rich smiled.

"It's made the rounds, Josh, right after the secret plan to fight inflation." 

"That was a long time ago," he returned absently. 

"Yeah, well... we need our entertainment where we can get it."

"There's not some right here?" 

"Okay, yes, there is."

"I'm not sure how much more of this I can watch."

"He's doing that badly?"

"No, I mean..." Josh waved an arm around. "I mean, it's not that either of them is winning spectacularly or losing very badly or anything. It's just that... that I've never seen Sam this way before, as himself, as..." Josh trailed off and shook his head.

"The best liberal political mind of his generation?" Mike suggested quietly. 

"It's more than that. Sam's never articulated just how liberal some of his ideas are, and tonight he is. He's glowing and confident and determined, and I don't know that even if Haffley pulls something out of his hat and kicks Sam's ass later on that'll stop him. It's like he's been building up, and just flipped a switch, and we're seeing all of Sam's ideas, everything he wants and believes for this country. He's been a candidate for a long time, but tonight is the first night he's looked Presidential, because he's got gravitas and he believes what he's saying and everyone knows it."

"Well put," Toby noted.

"Thanks."

"I would have said it better, of course."

"Yeah, I had a hunch."

* * *

"Excuse me! Could I have your attention, please?" 

Slowly, the cacophony stilled, as Sam smiled around the room: from Josh to Al to Donna to Rich... Anne, Carol, Huck, Leena, Marcus, Will, Amy, Justin, Toby, Mike, Samantha, Lisa, Claudia, Margaret, Jess: the people who had made this reality, and who had supported the... not the reality, but the possibility. Mallory stood with one hand on Sam's shoulder, the other around Joy and Zach. Andrea stood just behind Toby, leaning against a table with her arms wrapped around him. Josh snagged Josiah as he ran through, giggling, and tugged him in the direction of Noah's probably unenthusiastic arms. Joann stood by Huck, still studying something in his hands. Anne smiled over everyone's heads as Zoey and Charlie descended the stairs, speaking in soft murmurs about precincts and tracking. Mal reached out and took Zoey's hand, squeezing it with a gentle smile. Zoey grinned back and then looked around the room.

"Are we interrupting something?" she asked innocently. Sam laughed, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek and clap Charlie on the shoulder.

"I had something in mind, but if you'd like to go ahead..." he offered.

"I'm good." 

"Excellent." Sam turned back to the rest of the room. "It's 8 o'clock, and polls in the East open in eleven hours. We've run an excellent race and a campaign that, regardless of the outcome tomorrow, we can all not only be proud of but know that it will be a campaign to remember, one that will go down in history as the most successful attempt ever to educate on and debate the issues. It's been full of tragedy and celebration, of screwups and amazing recoveries, of the most daring and intelligent minds of this generation, minds who wouldn't let enough be enough, even when I wanted to say something was just 'good'. All of you wanted it to be better.

"I've come to value all of you: the people I've known for more than twenty years and the ones I've only known for a year and everyone in between. Josh, for being possibly smarter than me and with the soul to see that someone might be the real thing; Toby, for ghostwriting some of those speeches--yes, I knew--and insisting, with his heart of hearts, that nothing is impossible; Donna, for being the good cop and insisting that we're all gifted if you just look the right way. Carol, for keeping my Senate office running smoothly in all of her copious spare time, and for not quitting when she had every reason in the world to find a better-paying job with sane hours; Will and his powerful belief and determination, the only person I know with enough of it to take on health care; Margaret for not flying to pieces when yet another part of a carefully constructed schedule got thrown out, and for making sure we all went home and remembered to sleep and eat. Charlie, who walked into the wrong office almost twenty years ago and is about to get reelected to the United States House of Representatives; Zoey, for being utterly precious and never taking no for an answer; Andrea, with the courage to try again and who has a soul of gold and a mind... well, I'll just say I'm glad she's on my side. And Mallory, for insisting on equality and bearing it with dignity when she didn't get it... Mal, the other part of me, ready to set the world on fire and set all our beliefs on ear for the sake of something better for all of us.

"Amy, who made a promise and has nearly lost her job keeping it; Anne, with the good sense to argue with Josh when he's wrong and when he's right and more capability to keep my platform straight than I could ever possess. Samantha, who knows what I'm going to do before I do it just by looking at me, and has never stopped believing in me; Abigail, who could no more stop believing in this than she could stop eating chocolate, who is gifted with words and voice and mind... these two strong young women without whom this campaign would not exist, even though they had every reason to not help with it. Huck and Claudia, I hope that someday Margaret tells me just how much work you've done for the Seaborn/Wyatt ticket, because I have no idea, which probably means it's a lot. Leandra, whom Toby first met and described as a hopeless young woman, and is now within a few weeks of her master's degree, which her work here delayed because she believes in something; Mike, my ruthlessly truthful writer and campaign manager when no one else in California could stand either of us, who can still make words about the trade deficit glow with purpose. Marcus, who's still learning but, I think, has a giant heart hidden by that timid attitude and whose full potential is going to be a sight to see; Rich, the man who thought he was done in politics before Josh ran across him in some county office a year and a half ago, who's never let anything stop him from doing what he loves to do, and his assistant Jess, who will go to bat for him against anyone, up to and including me. Lisa, like Rich, thought she was done before she was persuaded to do an interview for this campaign, and who has acted with courage I could only dream of; and Justin, someone who for all his flippancy has the soul of a poet and the mind to make it sound like prose; not if we had searched the country--well, we sort of did search the country--could we have found someone who could write my voice so perfectly under pressure while scrunched into a small corner and a pencil that only bore a vague resemblance to something you actually write with."

Justin blushed and looked down; he clearly hadn't known that Sam had heard about that. But he, and everyone else in the room, was smiling and ready.

"We're all here together, including the Secret Service," and Sam nodded toward the head of his detail, "for possibly the last time, because from here on out, we'll all be busy with our own issues and duties, regardless of what happens tomorrow. There are just a few people who aren't here who also, quite frankly, made any of this a possibility rather than a distant imagining: Ben Anders, who's worked with Andrea and later myself for fifteen years now on creating more bipartisan bills that will do all Americans some good and who is probably held up by that very business tonight; Danny Concannon, who wrote the story that officially launched Seaborn for America; Leo McGarry and Jed Bartlet, without whom many of us would not have met, because they too believe that something good and great is possible; Abbey Bartlet, who is responsible for Jed and Leo being restrained to the general vicinity of the farm during election week and was called in by Margaret as reinforcements more than once in the last year; and finally CJ Cregg, who dared to do the impossible and believed in a bigger theme and that we could do anything if only challenged to do it, and sparked Seaborn for America and a host of other possibilities with trust and a few elegant words." 

"Believe in the right things," Samantha and Al whispered together. Sam nodded at them.

"Everyone who's here and who isn't here has been a gift to this team, to the possibilities and impossibilities Seaborn/Wyatt for America represents. We've gone through so much together, from flubs at press conferences to the accusations that I'm Sam and Al's father to San Diego being a terrorist target to my very nearly dropping a question during the debate and everything in between, all the way to the campaign funding scandal that threatened everything." He looked over at Andi. "Not that I mind such an attractive running mate..."

"Oooh," Huck mocked gently. His father's face took on a most dangerous aspect.

"So help me, Sam..."

"Cut it out," Andi directed. 

"She's not even elected and she's already bossing you around, Toby," Josh pointed out.

"I've been doing that for so long it doesn't matter what office I hold, Josh," Andi retorted.

"Anyway," Sam continued. "My point is this: we've worked hard, we've challenged our limits, we've done something beautiful and unique. It's the night before the election and if that last-minute ad buy doesn't help people make up their minds, nothing will. I'm going to ask a few people to stay in the office--Margaret, because I know she won't go home, and someone from communications--but I'm kicking the rest of you out. Go home, water your plants, feed and play with your pets if you have any, get some sleep and a decent meal and don't get drunk."

"He's serious, you guys," Josh ordered after no one moved. "Get out, be back here at 6 am tomorrow and be ready to stay until at least that time the following morning if necessary. Have a good night."

Slowly, the group broke up, heading over to Josh or Carol to ask a last-minute question or grabbing coats and folders. 

Will sidled in by Lisa. "That was a pretty big compliment he just gave you," he noted quietly, voice just above a whisper. She turned, quirking one eyebrow up as she put on her coat.

"He's very kind," she admitted.

"Lisa, seriously," Will insisted.

"What?" she inquired, seeing something odd in his manner and eyes, something joyful and yet haunted.

"There's only one other person in the world who's been granted that 'courage I could only dream of' description," Will told her. "You know who?"

Lisa shook her head. "No," she admitted.

"It was CJ Cregg, the year after she died."

"Sam must have admired her very much."

"He wasn't exaggerating when he said that stuff about her a few minutes ago. Anyway, I thought you should know. Have a good night." Will turned to retrieve his own coat.

"Will?" she stopped him. Mike, dashing by for something, almost ran into him as he turned around, apologized and then halted, waving one hand at him in the 'I need to talk to you' signal. Will nodded and looked over at Lisa. 

"Yeah?"

"How did CJ die?" Will flinched, echoed a moment later by Mike, and she continued. "I've heard rumors, but..."

"They sound too fantastic to be real?"

"Pretty much."

Will nodded toward Sam and Al, who were currently busy playing a game involving file folders, Joy, Zach, and Josiah. "They're not. She died when she gave birth to Samantha and Abigail. In the White House, a year before Bartlet's second Inaugural."

Lisa actually blanched, staring at the twins.

"You didn't know?" Will asked after a minute. Lisa shook her head.

"No. I mean, that was one of the rumors, but... well, the people the Senator's known the longest, like Josh and Toby and Carol, don't really talk about it."

"This isn't the best time to be discussing it, but Carol was CJ's assistant. Those people were, and still are, very close. They went through a lot."

"Will, this really isn't the best time," Mike interceded. "Plus, I need you for a thing." She looked over at Lisa. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Um, yeah." Lisa tossed a look over at Sam. "Should I say something to him?"

"No. Not now." Will waved his arms for emphasis. "Go home, eat a good meal, et cetera, and I'd say that to anybody."

"Sure. Good night." She pulled her hood up and turned toward the door. 

"Oh, by the way," Will called after her. "Sam was right."

She stopped and turned, a smile blooming and erasing the shock. "Good night, Will. Night, Mike." 

"Everyone leave their work here, or sign an affidavit stating you will not touch those files for the purpose of working on them until you arrive here tomorrow morning and are only taking them home because you're just that paranoid!" she heard Josh shout, even as he waved his own files around.

Tomorrow was going to be all sorts of fun.

* * *

Josh's order notwithstanding, a goodly portion of the staff showed up by around 5:30 the next morning. Fingers restlessly tapped against phones, and a near fight broke out over which station the radio should be on. Carol shut it down only by pointing out that they were all going to be too busy answering the phones and watching five different TV channels while trying to not rearrange their desks ten times.

Sam wouldn't be there until much later; the family would be flying to California to vote and coming back in the afternoon. Symbolism, of course; it wouldn't do to have him vote absentee, for reasons other than the fact that it would have utterly deprived the press of their chance to take pictures of both Sam and Mallory putting their ballots into the machine thing they used now for instant ballot reading. Mike had probably teased him about his hatred for the ballot machines ten times in the last week; one of the few things they'd never reveal was that Sam, who loved voting, hated standing there and feeding an oversized piece of paper into a machine to find out if his ballot would be valid.

"I have nothing to do," Al griped.

"You can have my job," Margaret offered.

"I don't even know what your job is." 

"I've been making it up as I go along," she confided.

"Ah."

"Dammit!" came an exclamation, followed by the sound of paper tearing. Justin followed, balling the paper up and throwing it furiously at the wastebasket. "I cannot, I cannot, write that damn concession speech!"

"Go outside!" Mike directed.

"No!"

"You can go outside and do the thing or you can write." She shook her head. "Josiah would need less direction than this!"

"Have you both voted?" Samantha inquired innocently, as other staffers stared.

"Yes."

"Yeah!"

"Then go and try to pry exit poll numbers out of some poor volunteer, or get a clipboard yourself. What difference does it make?"

"It makes a difference." Justin thrust his hands in his pockets and tried to glower. "It does."

"You start with congratulations," Al tried patiently.

"I'm not congratulating that... that..."

"You wouldn't be." 

"It doesn't make a difference."

"There is a difference. You have to write the words; Uncle Sam would be speaking them, maybe the last political speech he'll ever give." 

He nearly lowered his eyes before hers, that piercing awareness and understanding. "Way to buck me up there, Abigail." 

"If you have his voice, you can write it anywhere, for anything," she replied.

"I can't."

"Fine." In an almost childish gesture, she turned her back, flipping her hair over one shoulder, and picked up a folder.

"I can't," he repeated. She looked back at him, and he suddenly remembered who and what she was. Politics, writing, speaking... this was natural for her.

"You start with congratulations and hope for the future," she repeated.

"Then you do it!" he flared.

"Hey," Carol called sharply, popping up over one of the half-walls. "What's going on?" Al bit her lip and dropped back into her seat, fingers brushing the keyboard. 

"I can't write the-" Justin started.

"Or keep your manners, it looks like."

"Carol..." 

"That's the right start. If you can't handle it, find a clipboard. Call Will. Something. Anything besides this."

"Or you could do my job," Margaret offered from her desk. Carol shot her a look.

"Margaret, you're not helping." Still, there was a little amusement in her tone.

"Mike could give me some suggestions."

"Mike is busy enough already, thank you," came the absent reply from another desk. 

"You get the victory speech."

"And you think that's easier? Do you have any idea how hard it is not to offend people with these things?"

"No..." 

"Then I'm going back to it."

"Write," Carol ordered, and sat back down. Justin sighed and moved in the direction of his own desk.

"Justin," came the soft call. A sheet of paper poked at his arm, and he turned in startlement. He hadn't noticed her typing, or moving to the printer, but Al held out a page filled with words, and even as he skimmed them, reaching out one hand, he saw bits of possibility.

"Thanks." She smiled back, and he knew those words of concession, if Sam ever spoke them, would hurt her deeply.

"You're welcome." 

"Al, seriously, you..." He stopped and hugged her. "I'll write it now." She nodded back.

"Can I help?" It was Marcus, stepping up quietly. He might never be free of the haunting of his mistakes while he worked with these people, but he'd gradually found some of his own talent and confidence, and Sam's voice was one of them.

Justin quirked his eyebrows at the younger man and pointed toward his desk. "Let's get to work."

"Let's hope we don't need it," Margaret added, hands moving automatically but her voice fervent.

* * *

Twelve hours later, Josh walked down the hallway to the room where Sam and Mallory were waiting. His step was numb and automatic, just as his fingers had hit the button for their floor of their own will.

Those fingers were wet with tears, and he continued to sob, with sharp breaths, as he approached the agents near the door. Behind him, the other elevator dinged as the door was opened for him.

He should have at least been clutching a printout. Sam stood in alarm, nearly letting go of Mallory's hand, as he saw Josh at the door, conspicuously empty-handed and in tears. 

He hadn't seen Josh cry so much since... it was almost seventeen years ago, when he knelt, shuddering and broken, in a West Wing hallway.

"Josh?" Mal's voice was soft, pitched low, but it stirred the air, so Josh stepped forward, nearly staggering, a few more paces, fists clenching and unclenching. The door shut behind him.

Slowly, Josh lifted his gaze to Sam's; ragged peace could be read there, but not the answer to the question... the only question and answer that could possibly matter. This was as they had agreed; by the time they were back from California, both husband and wife had been weary of the incessant non-predictions, the babbling, the anticipation.

"Josh." Sam's voice was taut, pleading.

He swallowed and cleared his throat, nodding, and let his gaze meet Sam's more solidly.

"Mr. President-Elect."

Mallory gasped, caught in amazement and reality, as her husband's lips parted, too surprised to make a sound. As though that had been the key, Josh stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sam, gripping him tightly and grinning for joy and weeping at once. "Thank you," Sam whispered softly. 

"We did it," Josh murmured into his shoulder. "We did it..."

"Yeah." Sam patted him on the back. "Come on."

"Yeah," Josh echoed, pulling back and searching for a handkerchief. Peace... he could almost see the hollow uncertainty fading from himself, the thing that had kept him away from DC for months, had handicapped his will when he worked for Jamieson, had never let him see two girls without a ghost overlaying the real image.

The door opened again, one of the agents inserting herself deftly. "Sir, Jess Mobaeur?" 

"Yeah," the President-Elect replied casually. Jess didn't quite push her way past the agent.

"Josh? Is everything okay?" He smiled back, bright and full.

"Better than okay. Tell Rich it's Plan A."

"Right," she nodded. They could all see the actual realization hit her, the awareness that she was standing in front of the next President of the United States. "Congratulations, Mr. President-Elect." 

"Thanks, Jess." He smiled at her gently.

"We'll be down in a few minutes," Josh added.

"Do I have to call you Mr. President now?" Mal asked of Sam.

"Mmm," he replied, turning to smirk down at her. "Maybe..."

"Get a room," Josh shot off. "Sir." Another pause. "And ma'am."

"We did," Mallory retorted.

"Let's go," Seaborn asserted.

"Isn't it early for it to be called?" Mallory wanted to know on the way down.

"A little bit, yeah," Josh responded. "But if it's not too close, they're going to go ahead and call it."

"Not too close?" she repeated.

"It's... well, you'll see." Josh smiled.

"2002?" his best friend wanted to know.

"Not quite."

Never had any of them stepped into such joyful chaos. Donna ran up and took Josh by the shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He touched her cheek gently. "Everything's... just fine, Donna." He couldn't help it; he grinned again, and she returned it, then looked past him.

"Mr. President-Elect," she greeted. He dipped his head in return, looking around the room. "Let's go to a TV," she continued, pulling on Josh's arm. 

"Three hundred and five?" the First Lady-to-be wanted to know, gaping in astonishment.

"Wow," her husband uttered, at a loss in his win.

"Twenty-one of those are projected," Josh cautioned.

"Not anymore," Carol corrected, pointing in the direction of their own national map as another state became colored.

"Popular vote?" Seaborn managed.

"Um, we're still--" Josh snapped his fingers impatiently. Carol stepped in again. 

"Spread in states going for you, 52 to 72. Spread in states going against you, 39 to 49."

"52 to 72?" he repeated.

"Margaret, numbers spread!" Carol called over her shoulder. It seemed impossible for Margaret to hear her in the chaos, but she appeared a moment later.

"I checked them, then Huck double-checked them, and Mike triple-checked them. 52 to 72 spread." She paused and looked at him almost shyly for a moment, but Margaret was irrepressible. "Mr. President-Elect."

"Sir," Carol acknowledged simply, but her eyes were glowing.

His eyes shone back in gratitude. How fortunate he was, indeed...

"Holy shit, Josh, we did it!" Anne shouted, pushing her way through the crowd. "Three hundred electoral before 7 pm! Holy shit!" She grabbed his arm, then glanced past him, to where the First Couple-elect stood, and turned bright red.

"Slightly under three hundred for sure," he chided gently, one arm around her shoulders. "Good work."

"Sir, I..." 

"Anne," he directed, "never lose your enthusiasm."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry about the-" 

"Don't worry about it," he dismissed casually. Some of the blush faded from Anne's cheeks, and she smiled proudly at him. 

"Where's the speech?" Josh demanded of the room at large. Several blank looks met him before Mike, Justin, and Marcus pushed their way through.

"It's so beautiful," Justin was saying.

"I almost hate to waste it," Marcus agreed.

"You're both being idiots," Mike grumbled at them affectionately.

The President-Elect turned away from the TV again. "Idiocy on my staff, Mike?"

"Yes, Sa-sir," she replied, hastily correcting. "Congratulations." 

"Thank you. Idiocy?"

"We wrote the most beautiful concession speech ever," Justin put in, tone almost pleading. "It's gorgeous, I swear it is. Sir." 

"Well, Justin, if you want to go stuff some ballot boxes on the West Coast in the next few minutes, we might be able to use it, but you're going to have to work awfully fast," came the reply, full of humor. Justin actually let out a small snort of laughter.

"I'll live, sir."

"So will I," Marcus added. "Congratulations, Mr. President-Elect." 

"Thank you, Marcus."

"Don't tear it up," Justin requested of Mike. She raised an eyebrow.

"Put it in the bottom of a big, big drawer, Mr. Justin Dugnan, or I will do unmentionable things to you."

"Yes, ma'am." Justin about-faced, pulling Marcus with him, then stopped. "Oh." He turned back, looking at Mike expectantly. She lifted the folder, holding it with both hands.

"We're just waiting for the concession call, sir."

"All right." He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "How long does that take?"

"It depends," Josh admitted. "You've held the minimum for forty-five minutes now, so it shouldn't take too much longer. It should come through Margaret or Sam."

A few minutes passed. They all shot looks at the TV, trying not to listen too much to the anchors predicting this or that. The only thing that made them all turn was from Washington; DeMartin had kept her Congressional seat in a landslide.

He didn't see Margaret until she was right in front of him. "Mr. President-Elect? President Haffley."

He nodded, pulling his hand away from Mallory. "I think I need to do this alone." 

"We'll be right here," Josh answered.

"Remember," Mallory said simply, voice full of fire.

"Where's Andrea Wyatt?" he asked of Margaret on the way back to the phone. 

"The other place," she evaded, and picked up the receiver for him.

"Mr. President?" 

"Congratulations, Senator. Ah, President-Elect. I apologize for the delay."

"It's no problem, sir; I only found out a short while ago myself."

"Of course, of course. We'll of course not let partisanship delay the transition or any such nonsense like that. My people are of course disappointed, but the country has spoken quite clearly on this subject." In that moment, Sam understood; Jeff Haffley was ambitious, conservative, and believed he could run the country well, but that same belief meant that he would acknowledge the democratic process, and never let his personal ambitions or those of his staff or closest associates in the party endanger the right of Americans to speak on the subject of leadership. He knew he had made errors; he knew what most of them were, and no doubt could give Sam advice on the subject, although his graciousness might not stray that far.

"I appreciate that, Mr. President."

"You had a good campaign, Sam," the other man returned earnestly, dropping formality for a moment, the only moment; this was something that would never come again whenever these two might meet. "It had issues, real issues. I think some of us had forgotten that. Of course, I didn't agree with you on those issues, but if I did, this wouldn't be America, now would it?"

"No, I don't think it would be, sir."

"I'll be delivering my concession speech within the next few minutes. We'll speak again before you take the oath. Good luck."

"Thank you very much."

"Congratulations again." A moment later, he heard the soft hum of the line, and gave the receiver back to Margaret, who set it down.

"Need anything?" 

"My victory speech."

"Mike has it." 

"Yeah." Slowly, he turned and walked to rejoin Mallory, Josh, and Michaela at the screen.

"Welcome back," Mal greeted, kissing him.

"Did it go all right?" Josh checked.

"It went fine," he assured, and turned. "Is it done?" Mike offered him the folder wordlessly, her proud smile growing by the moment. He took it and scanned the pages. "Excellent. Let's go." He led the way to the cameras and lights, almost fidgeting when Josh reminded him they had to wait for the concession speech, and then a decent interval after that for politeness.

President of the United States. And he could see his running mate now, moving through the parted crowd, her chin lifted, face shining with voiceless astonishment.

POTUS. Eagle. What would his code name be? What would all of theirs be, would they all be changed from before? 

FLOTUS. Fire, determination, equality. A lady and yet not, for this most daring of Presidencies.

VPOTUS. The first woman to bear that title, and a bearing it would be, a terrible challenge for anyone. But that was why it was Andrea Wyatt, after scandal prevented his planned choice, though it was far from scandal for either of them. Where was Ben tonight? Was he grinning with triumph, even as his friends and colleagues bemoaned the loss of the White House?

He hadn't even thought of how Senate or House races had turned out, not even in California, where the party's hold had been risked when he refused to run two races at once.

"Madam Vice President-Elect," Josh greeted first, solemnly. She looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled.

"Thanks, Josh, but I don't want to be formal all the time."

"They're doing it to us, too," Mal mentioned. The other woman chuckled. 

"You're the top of the ticket."

"Stop it," came the admonishment.

"Sorry." She paused. "Sir." Blue eyes looked her way, crinkling up suddenly into laughter.

"You've earned your high office," he reminded.

"So have you. More so." 

"We're not doing this."

"Why?" 

"Because I'm in charge." She dipped her head in a slight nod, waiting as the President conceded the election, as the networks reacted and waited for his victory speech.

"And they say a good man can't get elected," Mallory noted.

"Who says that?"

"My dad said he said that to Jed, to get him to run."

"I can believe it." He hesitated. "You think I should call them?"

"You've got to do this speech."

"Yeah, but this is my father-in-law and the former President and First Lady we're talking about here."

"They'll understand, or they wouldn't be those things," she told him. He sighed, acknowledging.

"Mr. President-Elect?" He turned, facing Lisa. "Congratulations, sir."

"Thank you."

"It's almost time."

"Thanks."

She eyed the podium and the cameras. "I'll just be up there for a minute to let all the network anchors and experts finish their sentences and switch over, sir."

"I understand."

She nodded, seemed to hesitate, and headed decisively for center stage. "A good man _can_ get elected President," he heard her whisper fiercely as she went by.

"Uncle Sam," Sam greeted him, lifting her eyes shyly. "Can I still call you that?"

He almost, almost laughed. "Yeah." 

"Congratulations," Al added. She flicked a glance to the side, and he knew they were together, these people who had carried him, all of them, through this challenge, a team determined to put a good man in office.

POTUS. He shivered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President Elect of the United States." Lisa looked over, and he strode up. What was the word? Gravitas. He hoped he had it now. She nodded and stepped aside, back to the team. 

"Courage and impossibility," came the whisper, as their President stood before the nation.


	42. I Serve At The Pleasure Of The President

_I Serve At The Pleasure Of The President Of The United States_

"This is damned unusual, you know." 

"I know." 

"Some might say there's a conflict of interest." 

"They're welcome to think that." 

"It could put them in an awkward position at some point." 

"We did this as a team. A team got me elected, got Andrea elected." 

"Yeah. I'm just saying..." 

"Josh." 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Don't call me that." 

"You're going to be sworn in as President in the next few weeks; what else would I call you?" 

The President-Elect muttered something under his breath, then continued. "I need your okay on this." 

"Staff?" 

"Yes." 

"They're crazy enough to do it." 

"Josh..." 

"My only question is whether they serve at the pleasure of the President, or at the pleasure of the Vice-President." 

"Me, of course." 

Josh snorted. "The Vice President-Elect would say it's her." 

"Could we be serious here?" 

"We made it back!" his friend exclaimed. 

"We did, and I'd like to stay here, so..." 

Josh stood. "The staff is good. I'll finish up the other appointments." 

"Thank you, Josh." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"I wish that didn't have to change," Sam sighed after the door had closed behind his friend.

* * *

"Toby? I'd like for you to come write for me." 

He turned to face the speaker, who met his gaze steadily, standing erect and elegant, eyes undimmed and indeed anticipatory. Almost absently, he leaned on the arm of a nearby chair and crossed one ankle over the other, considering. 

One hand brushed over nearly wholly silvered hair before he replied. "Former White House Communications Directors don't become speechwriters for the First Lady." 

"Are you afraid of writing about flowers and fashion all the time?" she challenged. 

"It just doesn't happen," he persisted, only half looking at her. 

"It's happening now." Mallory stepped up to him, tilting her head and fixing determined eyes on his. "Toby, I know you wrote Sam's first two speeches a long time ago, almost ten years ago. We had to change the words to fit the year, but there... I know you don't want to work for him, I know you can't work for Andrea. My issues are going to be drowned out by my husband taking a walk, Toby; Abbey's told me that a thousand times. But I think you can help me make sure that the people who are actually there, listening to me speak, will be listening and when I'm done, they'll believe it." 

"And maybe your biggest event of the year won't be completely drowned out if he sneezes?" he asked, almost teasing. 

"I have high hopes in that regard, Mr. Ziegler." 

"I'm not sure," he admitted slowly, fingers linking and unlinking, rubbing gently, "that I can... that I can tone myself down." 

"I don't want you to tone yourself down, Toby. I need the undiluted Toby Ziegler, because otherwise this isn't going to work." 

"Well..." He laughed a little. "What do you need written first?" 

"Nothing about flowers or fashion, I can assure you. Well, maybe a little fashion." 

"Mallory." 

"Hey," she objected, eyebrows going up. 

"Ma'am," he sighed. "A little fashion?" 

"Maybe just a little," she admitted, holding thumb and forefinger up. 

"I suppose I could do that. So what is it?" 

She told him. 

He was up for two nights writing it. A First Lady's First One Hundred Days demanded no less.

* * *

"So I lied." He said this lightly, then surveyed the room. Less than half the occupants were comfortable enough to smile, let alone chuckle. "Not the best start to my term, I realize." 

"Yes, sir," some chorused, mostly the unsmiling ones. The President-Elect sighed a little. 

"We're all here together because this is the time Andrea and Mallory and I have chosen to appoint our staffs, and I must tell you there is some overlap." A few people nodded in understanding; most of them just looked confused. He forgot, sometimes, how young some of them were, that they had never worked nationally, that some had lost hope, and this was still sinking in. 

They were going to work in the White House; some in the West Wing, some in the East Wing, some near the Oval, some on the second floor, some in a closet in the basement. 

"Joshua Lyman." Automatically, Josh buttoned his suit jacket as he stepped forward, meeting the eyes of his best friend with a brilliant and restrained smile that was in his eyes more than anywhere else. "You know why you're here?" 

The dimples suddenly broke out, and Josh nearly threw back his head and laughed. "Because I know what's impossible, and I do it anyway." 

"I'll have to take you up on that sometime." He regarded the other man with deep affection, suddenly thinking of Josh's bad poker face in New York, right before they hopped onto Jed's campaign. "Joshua Lyman, I designate you to the post of White House Chief of Staff, with all the power, rights, and privileges therein. Do you accept?" 

Josh stood utterly still, lips a little parted, eyes almost unreadable. He started to lift one hand to run it through his hair, then stopped, and gazed at Sam for a timeless moment, as though taking his measure, or realizing what had truly been accomplished. Sam simply surveyed him, expression understanding, remembering that winning the election had made this man weep. Finally, Josh straightened fully. "I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States." 

"Then it is done on this day and in this place." They stepped forward at the same time, and the handshake turned into a hug. 

"Thank you, Mr. President," Josh said as he stepped back again. A simple nod answered him, and the President-Elect smiled in real pleasure and no little mischief as he picked up the next leather folder and gave it to his wife. 

Oh, the country was in for an unimaginable four years, full of beauty and possibility, that of hearts and minds. 

"Amelia Gardner," the First Lady-to-be's voice rang across the room. "I place now confidence in your ability, integrity, and good sense, and I appoint you Chief of Staff to the First Lady of the United States. I do affirm it on this day, at this place." 

"Yes, ma'am." Amy stepped forward, no little surprise on her features. 

"Unlike my husband, I'm not going to give you a chance to say no," Mallory advised. Amy just smiled, that expression which was twinkling and competitive at the same time. 

"I serve at the pleasure of the First Lady, ma'am." Her departure from the WLC could be organized later. They'd had her a long time; they'd understand. 

The handshake cemented something real, as though they'd vowed together that something important would change in the next four years; it was an almost invisible promise as they locked gazes for a moment, but utterly real. 

"Good luck," the President-Elect told Amy. 

"Thank you, sir," she replied, and might have winked. He almost shook his head, and gave a folder to his running mate. She opened it briefly, as though to verify that she was actually doing this, and snapped it shut, nodding. Wyatt's gaze swept around the room sharply, coming to rest on the individual who would be her Chief of Staff in a few moments. 

"Donnatella Moss, with your consent I hereby appoint you as Chief of Staff to the Vice President of the United States." She shivered, and saw it reflected in Donna's eyes; it was the first time she'd said her new title aloud. 

The younger woman stepped forward, her hand brushing her husband's arm. "Ma'am." 

"I authorize you to execute and fulfill the duties of that office, and take on the rights, responsibilities, power, and privileges therein. I do so on this day, having confidence in your ability and integrity to execute said duties." 

"Madam Vice President," Donna acknowledged, stepping forward again to take the heavy folder, fingers trembling a little. "Thank you. I will serve at the pleasure of the Vice President." _Unless and until my actions, spouse, or history become a liability to you,_ she added to herself, wondering if the other woman heard it from the slight lilt at the end of the sentence. 

"My turn again," he interceded, and the two stepped away from each other, Donna bobbing her head a little and looking oddly shocked, as though the years between the Bartlet administration and this one had never passed and she was still Josh's assistant. "Anne Katherine Westin, what promise do you bring?" 

Anne straightened, though her face was a little paler that it had been a minute ago. "An imperfect system is no reason to not challenge ourselves, sir." 

"And what do you promise?" 

"To rise to the challenge." 

"There you go." He opened the folder and smiled at her. "Having trust in your integrity, prudence, and ability, I designate you White House Deputy Chief of Staff..." 

Had it been less solemn an occasion, Anne might have elbowed Josh at this. Instead, she stared in amazement, almost unable to move, even when the President came right up to her and almost poked her in the shoulder with the folder that was now hers. 

"Carol Fitzpatrick, White House Director of Communications and Special Counsel to the President..." He smiled gently, as Carol tried to hide that she was the first one to cry, if only a little. 

"Toby Ziegler, Communications Director and Counsel to the First Lady." Andrea Wyatt rotated at this, lifting one eyebrow; of all those present, Toby's appointment had been settled last, and none of them had expected he would work in an administration again. 

"Elsie Snuffin, Vice Presidential Communications Director." Elsie glowed, shooting Will a look that might have been gratitude. 

"Rich Merriweather, I appoint you Public Relations Counsel to the office of the President-" 

"-and the First Lady of the United States," his wife finished swiftly. After they both affirmed it, she gave it to Rich, who slid his fingers into the folder and then straightened even more in astonishment. There was one certificate to hang in his office--an office in the White House??--and there was one in Braille, the Seal raised so his fingers could trace over it. 

"I serve at the pleasure of the President and the First Lady," he affirmed, smiling. She kissed him gently on the cheek, and the President shook his hand. 

"Michaela Lakestar... Deputy Director of Communications for the President and Vice President..." His smile was warm, his eyes proud. 

"Justin Dugnan... special trust... Deputy Director of Communications for the President and Vice President..." Her gaze was direct, affirming that trust, that they could both write for two people. 

"Lisa Pumakin, I do designate you White House Press Secretary, with all the powers and privileges..." She hardly heard the rest of it, stepping forwardly almost numbly. 

"Thank you, sir. I... I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States." _And tomorrow, I'll wake up and this will be a mistake and he'll realize how crazy this is, and get someone else to do this job that isn't slightly ridiculous and crazy._

Justin laid a reassuring hand on Marcus' shoulder, although the younger man's expression indicated he felt fortunate and proud to still be standing here, to know these people and to have worked with them, even for so short a time. "Remember, everyone with the campaign will be taken care of," he reminded, as the First Lady held the last folder and looked around the room. 

"Leandra Hudson," and the younger woman gasped and held her hands to her mouth, hardly daring to believe. Eleven years ago, she had met Toby Ziegler and Sam Cregg through Galileo Foundation, and now... Press Secretary to the First Lady, could she possibly have heard right? 

They wisely waited a few moments, but not too long, for their staffs, now official, to gaze at the certificates and gape in astonishment and start teasing each other. The President-Elect cleared his throat a bit and nodded at Josh. 

"All right, everybody. Go do a thing," came the direction. 

"Go," Donna confirmed. 

Amy actually waved her hands a bit. "Go, do a job..." 

"How long do you think the adrenaline high will last them?" Andrea murmured to Sam after the staffs had left. 

"I don't know, but I hope it's gone before Inauguration Day." 

"That should be enough time." 

"You'd think so, but with this group, it's hard to tell. But," he conceded, "they'll need that later."

* * *

"Why do I have to do this?" Justin demanded of Josh. 

"Because you're the only member of the senior staff who can be objective and is qualified to do the interviews." 

"For the President's body man?" 

"Or two of them. Or a young woman. Or two young women. Or a man and a woman." 

"How many qualified applicants are there?" 

"A lot," the older man admitted. 

"How do I--" 

"Gut instinct. Get the right person, or people, for the job. Take it to me or the President." 

"Right." 

Only now, during the interviews, did Justin understand Josh's previously cryptic statement. 

"You've got good grades," he admitted, glancing through paperwork. 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Why weren't you in school full time last semester?" 

"We were helping with Seaborn for America, Mr. Dugnan." 

"A worthy endeavor, to be sure," he agreed, looking up from the papers. "Are you applying together, or-" 

"We come as a team," Abigail asserted. 

"It's really too much for one person," Samantha noted. "In our opinion, that is." 

"And how did you form this opinion?" he asked, mouth quirking. 

"We saw Charles Young when he was President Bartlet's body man; he was often here later than the senior staff. He also told us about it later, so we have an extensive knowledge of the position." 

"I see." 

"We're aware this is rather unusual, but we're both of the opinion that at the least this will help President Seaborn in the transition period." 

"Also a valid reason for applying." He studied them closely, noting the seriousness in their eyes. Most of the other applicants were doing it for their resume or because it was the President or just because they could; these two were doing it to help. They'd made that abundantly clear. 

Hell, though, he wasn't sure there was anyone working for the President right now who had adequate objectivity for this. These were, after all, the Cregg twins, celebrities enough in their own right to be eligible for a protection detail. 

What was it about them that made them go to politics, try achieve something in the same backstabbing, complex field that had strained their mother past humanity? Why did they want to work in the building where she'd died... yet also plotted out an arc of strategy and possibility that had led to this? 

"You understand there are certain complexities in working under 18," he advised. 

"Yes, sir," Al replied, mouth twitching a little. He could read the meaning of it all too clearly, that they knew and probably already had most of the paperwork filled out. 

"There was no one else that stood out enough," he told Josh later. 

"And made a good argument for having the job?" 

"That too." 

"Okay. I'll take this to the President, but I'm pretty sure we've got ourselves two personal aides. Thanks for doing this, Justin." 

"I wasn't objective enough." 

"Out of a field of a dozen subjective perspectives, you were the most objective." 

"Is that good enough?" 

"It'd better be, because I don't want to have to deal with a thing because you couldn't say no to the Cregg twins." 

"It's good enough, then." Watching Josh go out, Justin wonders if that was what this was supposed to be; that he needed to not be objective, but reach a good conclusion anyway.

* * *

"My favorite meeting!" 

"No..." 

"It's really his favorite meeting." 

"We get to find out our code names." 

"I don't want to know." 

"Well, are you going to say no to the Secret Service?" 

"I understand why they're there, but this is still so weird." 

"Wait until we're actually in the White House." 

"Go outside, turn around three times..." 

"It's okay to say it now. We actually won." 

"Damn. I was hoping..." 

A laugh. "You never got to tell anyone to do that during the campaign, did you?" 

"Nope," wistfully. "Someone else always got there first." 

"I can see how that would be frustrating." 

"All right." The man who entered looked quite ordinary, except for the way the air about him seemed to change. "Mr. President, with your permission?" 

"I don't think you need it, Bill, but of course." 

They'd all been cleared three different ways before coming to this meeting, and undergone an additional check at the door by two agents, so there was no hesitation in William Niell's voice. Not that there ever was, really, so far as any of them could tell. 

"President Seaborn: Liberty. First Lady Seaborn: Equality." 

Smiles chased around the room, and the President took his wife's hand, linking their fingers together. A small laugh bubbled up, and she shot Niell a look of apology. 

"Vice President Wyatt: Freedom." She wasn't there, but they could all hear her protest that the only possible code name was 'Maryland', which was, of course, why it hadn't been chosen. 

"Mr. Lyman: Kingmaker. Ms. Moss: Prudence." The couple elbowed each other, missing a couple of names in the chief's recital. 

"Ms. Fitzpatrick: Recourse. Ms. Lakestar: Tucson. Mr. Dugnan: Albany." 

"Are you all right?" Mike questioned Justin. He coughed again, then laughed sharply. 

"Yeah. I just think that's funny." 

"Hello," the President-Elect interrupted. 

"Ms. Pumakin: Honor. Mr. Merriweather: Hawkeye." Rich guffawed, then burst into full gales of laughter. 

"Does the name suit, Mr. Merriweather?" Niell asked after Rich had calmed down to chuckles. 

"Yes, sir; it's fine. I didn't think it was going to get picked, that's all." 

"Very well." He glanced at his list, then back up. "The code names for the First Children will be announced just prior to inauguration; they'll continue to use their current code names until then. That leaves the Cregg and Wyatt twins, sir." 

"Please," came the consent. 

"Mr. Wyatt is Costello, and Ms. Wyatt is Abbott." Claudia covered her mouth with one hand, while Huck squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress a smile. 

"Mr. Niell?" 

"Mr. Ziegler?" 

"Please tell me those names will never be accessible to the public." 

"Not for at least fifteen years, sir, possibly longer." 

"Fifty years would be better, but thank you." 

"Our pleasure, sir." He settled his eyes on the Creggs, and Seaborn tightened his hand into a fist momentarily, out of sight, then relaxed it again, his own gaze focused on them. 

"Ms. Samantha Cregg, you are Egret. Ms. Abigail Cregg, you are Flamingo. That will be all for now." Nodding, the Secret Service man picked up his few materials and exited. 

"We're birds?" 

"You're your mom," Josh said softly. "You knew about this, sir?" 

"Yeah." He leaned forward. "If you absolutely don't want those code names, Sam and Al, we can probably get them changed." 

Al looked over at him with a brilliant, unexpected smile. "Thank you, sir. I don't mind being a ridiculous-looking bird." 

"I don't mind being the other ridiculous-looking bird," Sam agreed. 

"Very well." 

"What are you?" Josh asked Anne. 

"You shouldn't have been talking with Donna," she retorted. 

"Yeah, whatever." 

"I'm Holyoke." 

"I thought you went to the other place." 

"The unpronounceable one. Yeah, I don't know why the Secret Service didn't want to name me Bryn Mawr, Josh. Half the people that go there can't say it." 

"I still can't believe you went to a girls-only school." 

"I got my undergraduate from there, Josh, I didn't take all my credits there." 

"All right, all right."

* * *

"We would have gladly found a spot for you. You know that, right?" 

Will looked up from his desk, which was almost empty, to meet Carol's eyes. "I know," he replied, moving to pick up his scarf and gloves. "I had two reasons, well, sort of three reasons..." 

"Elsie can still drive you crazy?" she asked slyly. 

"That was the sort of reason," he admitted. "The insurance bill runs out later this year, Carol. I may not have enough time to gear up for the fight to keep those provisions as it is." 

"You'll have help from the White House this time," she reminded him. "And by the time it comes to a vote... well." 

"Don't jinx it," he cautioned with a faint smile. She grinned back at him. "That's the other reason; I don't want the White House any more linked with the health care lobby than it already is. You're already walking the fine line between it being an advantage and becoming a liability. And I would not create a liability for the President." 

"We know," she told him. "Galileo, Will. Best of luck." 

"Good luck to you, too," he answered. She smiled, an intense and anticipatory expression. 

"You'll still be watching, right?" 

"I've seen enough of the First One Hundred Days for the President to know that I wouldn't miss it for anything." 

"Anything?" 

"Anything." 

"Don't miss the State of the Union." 

"What's the Inaugural, an after-dinner speech?" 

"I'm just going to have Toby stab you with a fork now," she laughed. "Don't miss that, either." 

"Is anything still going to be in the same place in four years?" 

"All the right things." 

"You hope." 

"Did I tell you about the old lady?" 

"What old lady?" 

"She came in... oh, right after we moved to the transition offices. She was a volunteer, actually. She stepped in and asked where the President was. Anne told her he wasn't there." 

"I don't think they ever are." 

"Yeah. Anyway, she looked about 75, 80 years old, and she looked right at Anne, and you could... you could just see that she was remembering something. Finally, she straightened up and said to Anne, 'They only make the minds of politicians like that once every fifty years, my girl. Fifty years. I saw the last one. He didn't get to do anything, and we lost. We lost. You tell him to do what Bobby didn't get a chance to do. You tell him to change it.' And then she turned around and left, but she looked like she'd said something she needed to say." 

"She must have been in college or just graduated when he was assassinated," Will mused. 

"Yeah." Carol linked her hands together. "Anyway... I don't know why I told you that." 

"It's probably because I asked about moving everything." 

"I wonder if she's right about the fifty-year thing?" she mused. 

"She was right about those fifty years, unfortunately. Hopefully there will always be someone like that, the kind of person who's willing to speak from their heart." 

"You don't think Jed was that kind of person?" 

"No. Was he the best at it at that time? Absolutely; there's no question about that. But he was already a grandfather when he entered office; he just didn't look young enough." 

"Yeah." Carol looked thoughtful. "I'll probably see you sometime this year, Will." 

"You too. Good luck keeping everyone in line." 

"Don't remind me!" she exclaimed with a slight roll of the eyes.

* * *

"Oh, _wow_." Justin entered the lobby and stopped short in awe, speechless. 

"God, it's..." Lisa couldn't manage a sentence, either, though she tried. "Too beautiful." 

"Rich?" Carol inquired. 

"It feels... big." 

"There's a high ceiling, and somehow or another, they've kept most of the lobby space that was here twenty years ago. If you move a little to your left, you can stand on the Seal that's there." He shuffled over, extending his feet gently to tap the design. 

"I wish I could see the looks on your faces right now." 

"Well, mine probably isn't so amazing, but everyone else? Yeah, I wish you could too." 

"Excuse me--whoa." Anne stopped and almost set her briefcase down. "I think it got bigger since the last time I was here. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" 

"Usually. Let's get out of the way before the security guards tell us we're a hazard, okay?" 

"I think we're a hazard by default..." 

"Shh! Justin!" 

"Sorry." 

"You are not." 

"I'm on the Inauguration high." 

"He hasn't been inaugurated yet." 

"It's the pre-high. Or something." 

"Where's Josh?" 

"Getting a security briefing, I think. Here we go..." 

"Hell, some places this would be a closet!" 

"It's the White House!" 

"You look good in there." 

"Thanks." Justin smirked at the speaker. 

"I'm not having an office next to yours. Am I?" Lisa tried to confirm, turning to Carol. 

"We'll do our best," the other woman returned, heading out of the bullpen. "They turned this place upside down when they remodeled it!" they could hear her exclaim a few seconds later. 

"What?" 

"Didn't the bullpen used to be, you know..." 

"Twenty feet that way? Yeah. It's amazing how much that throws me off." Carol strode off down the hallway. "Nobody steal my office." 

"Which one?" 

"The bigger one!" 

"Are you finding my office?" Lisa shouted after her. 

"You just shouted in the White House," Mike noted, eyes uncharacteristically huge and voice just as oddly hushed. 

"She's not the first one," Anne noted dryly. 

"That's true, I suppose, but couldn't she have waited until after Inauguration?" 

"I guess not." The Deputy Chief of Staff shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other. "I'm going to go find an office. I'll meet up with you later. Try not to get lost!" 

"Is this far enough away?" Carol asked Lisa, opening a door. The Press Secretary stuck her head inside. 

"Sure. It looks nice." 

"It's a West Wing office. They all look nice the first few weeks, before reality sets in," the Communications Director advised. Lisa laughed. 

"Yeah, I suppose, but right now..." she almost clasped her hands together. "Can I put stuff on the desk and all of that?" 

"Sure." Carol surveyed her for a moment, considering. "Lisa." 

"Yes?" Responding to the tone, the younger woman looked up from her inventory of the desk and its drawers. 

"You know you're going to get asked if you have CJ Cregg's old office, and, uh, and so forth, right?" 

"I... hadn't thought about it." Lisa's fingers skated over the smooth wood. 

"You're not in the old office." Carol swallowed. "It's... I haven't checked yet, but I think it's actually the office Anne's taking; it's in the right part of the building, and... it just looks like it." 

"You want me to dodge the question, or say Anne has it?" 

"If she really does, absolutely you can say that. Aside from that... staffers choose offices more or less at random." A smile might have twitched at Carol's mouth then, but she wasn't sure. "Also, has Josh talked to you?" 

"About what?" 

"No, then." She sighed. "The President?" 

"No. What's going on?" 

"Men." Carol lifted her hands in not entirely mock despair. "Forgetful, all of them... well, mostly. I think you're good on any briefing questions relating to you having CJ's job; you've been getting some for about a month now. We can go over a few things if you want, though. But the real thing is this. Don't be CJ." 

"How do you mean?" 

"Don't lose yourself in the job, and ask... for the love of God, Lisa, ask for help if you need it, or if something's wrong. Don't take on the burdens of the first line of defense alone." 

"That's my job." 

"Doing it alone isn't." Carol's eyes sharpened. "I was hoping one of them would remember to say this to you, but I wanted it covered before Inauguration. If you get threats, say something. Certain mail goes to the Secret Service. You can bring Dani in if it's nasty. You do have to stand up behind that podium by yourself, but that is the only time you're alone. You can't be CJ, because we can't shatter like that again." 

Lisa's voice was muted, almost teary. "I understand." 

"Now go find that legendary flak jacket." Carol's voice was brisk now. "I'll be... oh, probably doing damage control already, if anyone needs me." 

"Carol, I, uh, I know that sometimes the Press Secretary has to jump in front of a story." 

"Yeah." 

"Can I do that?" 

"Don't do it without telling us. If you try to do this alone, we'll bother you about it endlessly." 

"All right..." 

"Just... don't be CJ," Carol said again. 

"I serve at the pleasure of the President," Lisa noted softly. 

"Yeah." Carol took a deep breath. "Keep his welfare and yours straight. I've got to go do a thing." 

"Right." After she left, Lisa sat down in the chair, feeling oddly overwhelmed. How could she ever, possibly, step into the shoes of a woman whose ghost still hovered over every former Bartlet staffer, even if the specter of failing her no longer haunted them?

* * *

"He said if you didn't like it, you could wear the other one." Donna tapped on the door. 

"Sorry, Aunt Donna. We're fine. Just give us a minute." Sam's voice was laden with a myriad of emotions. 

"Are they almost ready?" Josh appeared, fiddling with one cuff. 

"I think so," Donna responded doubtfully, turning away from the door to face her husband. "You look good." 

"Aren't I supposed to be saying that to you?" he returned lightly, dimpling. She laughed, the delicate sound ringing down the hallway of the Residence. 

"Flatterer. After all these years, you should know I don't care how I look..." 

"I'd never guess it today," he told her, eyes resting on her dress and recalling the suit she'd worn earlier, for the Inaugural ceremony. 

Inauguration. CoS to POTUS. CoS to VPOTUS. He shivered and felt himself start to grin again. 

"Uh-oh," Donna noted. "You're thinking about someone's job title again, aren't you?" 

"Chief of Staff," he replied, feeling almost dazed again. "This is... going to be the real thing, Donna, I swear." 

"I know," she replied, smiling back. 

_'... I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and I will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.' _

'... I took an oath just a few minutes ago to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution. I now give you another oath, though my hand is not now on the Bible or any other good book: I will, to the best of my ability, with full measure, to the limits of my capacity, preserve, protect, and defend the people of the United States, for the Constitution is nothing without the people and the people are nothing without the Constitution...' 

"Are we ready?" the President asked, coming around the corner with the First Lady on his arm. 

"Almost, sir," Josh answered, turning to face him. In the rush of this January day, it had simply been easier for them to skip the step of going home, changing for the Inaugural Balls, and then coming back to the White House. "Nice dress, ma'am." 

"Good man," Seaborn approved. "Your priorities are in order, Josh." 

"I just reminded him," Donna interjected. 

"And I hadn't forgotten yet!" 

"And I was going to say you looked so good in your tux, Joshua. Stop now, while you're only a little behind." 

"I do look good in my tux." 

"Yes..." 

"What are they wearing?" the First Lady inquired, glancing toward the door. 

"Toby brought it over, ma'am. He wouldn't let anyone else see it." The First Couple raised thoughtful eyebrows at this. 

"Donna, you don't have to call me ma'am all the time." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"That's exactly what I mean. What say you to calling me Mallory when we're in the Residence?" 

"Sounds good, ma--Mal." 

"You both look wonderful, Joy and Zach," Josh complimented after a moment. 

"Thank you, Uncle Josh," Joy answered, wiggling her toes a little bit. 

"Thanks," Zach replied, glancing up at Josh from under dark brows as he tugged at his own tuxedo. 

"Remember, Zach," his father advised the nine-year-old gently, "you don't have to come to all of the balls. And make sure you can always see one of your agents, okay?" 

"I understand." 

"Joy," her mother admonished, "will you-" 

"I'll be good, Mom. I promise not to climb up any pillars or slide down the balustrades. Well," she added with a smile that looked familiar to all of them, "unless the other kids are already doing it." 

"Please don't give our kids any ideas," Josh groaned. "Joann's already come close to breaking half the things in my office, feeling them." 

"That's funny," Donna noted. "I don't have that problem with Josiah." 

"That's because Josiah knows the meaning of 'serious work place'." 

"Are you insulting your own daughter, Mr. Lyman?" 

"Careful," the President recommended. 

"I concede," Josh declared, holding his hands up. "I'm conceding whatever it is I'm supposed to be conceding." 

"Just not the important things, right?" his best friend of over two decades inquired. Blue met brown and lit up. 

_'... there is no courage more valuable than asking the question. There is no quality more precious to humanity than curiosity ... The cornerstone of my campaign, of my Presidency, has been the acknowledgment that we have an imperfect system, and the promise that having an imperfect system is no reason not to try, and try harder... I cannot promise happiness to all of you, or to any of you; I can promise you shall have the best chance to choose your own, to see the possibilities of others' happiness... I declare this, ladies and gentlemen: 'I am a free American.' I tell this to you: 'You are a free American.' If you believe in freedom in your heart, you are American, and no one has the right to tell you you're unpatriotic or unAmerican. The freedom of diversity is what makes this country precious, and I will defend that...'_

"Never the important things," Josh answered softly. 

"Sorry," Sam said, opening the door. "These dresses are a bit... Uncle Toby didn't tell us about the style." 

"Is the thing zipped?" Al asked her sister, who lifted her eyes up and squeezed them shut in mock annoyance. 

"I told you it's fine." The twins took each other by the hand and stepped out. 

For Josh, Donna, and the President, time hung suspended, soft breath and utterly motionless. 

"Oh, Al, you're pretty!" Zach exclaimed. She smiled at him, just a little shyly for her. 

"Where did Toby find those dresses?" the First Lady asked, when it became clear her husband and his best friend and his wife were still bereft of speech. 

Sam lifted one hand to her curled hair, nudging a lock back over her shoulder. "Uncle Toby had them in his apartment, I think." An eyebrow went up in response. 

"I never thought of Toby Ziegler as a..." words failed her. So like. 

"Keeper of dresses?" her husband murmured. 

"That, too." 

"Uncle Sam?" they inquired, almost together. 

"You look wonderful, girls." 

"Josh," Donna hissed. 

"Yeah?" 

"We're ready now." 

"Are those really-" 

"Yes." 

Josh surveyed the two. "If it wouldn't create a news cycle we couldn't get out of, I'd be escorting you into the ballroom," he told them. 

"You'd have to wait behind me," the President advised softly. 

"With pleasure, sir." 

"Aunt Donna..." Al half-begged, turning her slim shoulders a bit. 

"I fixed it," her sister protested. 

"I'll look," Donna promised, stepping up and circling Al. "Everything looks fine. On both of you." 

"Thanks." They clasped hands again. Sam's eyes looked almost gray now, reflecting the long column of silk. Untwining the wrap, she pulled out a pair of long gloves and slipped them on, wriggling her fingers. Uncle Toby had said he wouldn't mind if she didn't wear those, since the dress for Al didn't have a pair and gloves were usually worn by women a little bit older, if they were worn at all these days. Al's dress was cut low, the top embroidered and the skirt and wrap a perfect royal blue. 

"I hope Uncle Toby knows what he's doing," Al muttered. 

"Me too," Sam whispered back. "He said he'd been holding onto them for a long time." 

"Seventeen years, from everyone's expressions." 

"I hope this doesn't cause a news cycle." 

"It won't." 

"We're the President's personal aides." 

"Yes, and we're also in a weird legal arrangement with the President, the First Lady, the White House Chief of Staff, the Vice President's Chief of Staff, and the First Lady's Communications Director known as 'technically our parents', so we've got the right to be here about twelve different ways." A mischievous pause. "Besides, I think Lisa would appreciate having to answer a personal question that isn't about her." 

"The White House does not comment on the personal lives of its staff, oh, and while you're at it, shove your question up your ass." They giggled a bit. Donna turned her head, still striding forward on Josh's arm. 

"Samantha!" 

"Sorry." 

"I don't believe you." 

"It's the mental image, Aunt Donna. I know not to say anything like that where I'm heard." 

"Yeah, all right, it was funny. But don't do it again." 

"Thanks. And I won't." 

"I won't either," Al said as soon as Donna's gaze shifted to her. 

"You're riding with us," she said with a smile before she turned forward again. 

"Okay." 

As they reached the entrance to the ballroom, the President sighed and stopped, turning his gaze into the distance, for something none of them could see. 

"Sam?" Mallory asked. 

"Yeah." 

"We're waiting for you." 

"Yeah." 

"Are you all right, sir?" Josh wanted to know. Seaborn drew his gaze back from wherever it was and turned around, eyes going to the young women following him: daughters, nieces, personal aides. 

"I feel compelled to warn the two of you that Carol is likely to be quite shocked. Try to keep her from killing Toby, will you? And if Danny's here, Sam, he's going to want a dance with you." 

"Yes, sir," came the response. 

"I'd be happy to oblige him," Sam followed up. 

"All right. Let's go." He turned and straightened, stepping forward into the crowd that was already present, a glittering mass of human movement. 

Josh hesitated briefly, touching his wife's arm. "Look at that..." 

"I'm looking. And I want to dance with you." Donna's voice was a little tart, but her eyes held a depth of admiration and loyalty. 

"We serve at the pleasure of the President..." he murmured, setting one foot forward steadily. 

"Or the Vice President," she retorted gently, but that phrase had caught them both in the same fresh memory. 

_'Each member of my staff has declared they serve at the pleasure of the President. That's an old promise, a true vow given by a President's most trusted advisors. There is another promise, one that has not been made as often as it should have been, which I make now. I am your advisor, and you, all of you, are mine. And so, I declare this, on this day and in this place: I serve at the pleasure of the People of the United States of America.'_


	43. Let's Get In The Game

_Let's Get In The Game_

"Must you?" 

"I must." Mallory stepped away, and his hand dropped to his side. 

"It seems impossible," Sam confessed, regarding his wife with doubt and considerable admiration. 

"The way I wanted to do it was," she replied, eyes sparking. "Every schoolroom in the country, Sam. From Maine to California to Puerto Rico to Alaska to Hawai'i, because _that_ is what's next." 

"You would be busy until you were a grandmother," he teased gently. 

"While you were resting on your laurels, yes, Sam, I would be." 

"Be careful," he told her after a minute. 

"No metal detectors today," she said with forced cheer. 

"That doesn't-" 

"Samuel." She took his chin firmly in one hand. "You are the target. I'm the First Lady; I'm not an elected official. My power comes purely from being your wife, and what I can do is limited by that." 

"You are the wife of the most liberal President since John Kennedy," he noted sharply, fear stirring in his eyes. "And your goals and dreams as First Lady are far different, and far more radical for a First Lady than mine are for a President." 

"They are not." He started to speak, but she shook her head, with that dangerous quick look, almost a glare. "They are further outside the traditional First Lady's purview, Sam; of that I have no doubt whatsoever. But each First Lady has shaped the role to suit her purposes. You are the one who intends a Hundred Days sure to keep the Secret Service busy for the rest of your term. So, you be careful." 

"I will be." He kissed her. "Friday night?" 

"Yes." She swallowed a bit. "I'll call." 

"Each night." 

"Every night, Sam." Her gaze flickered to the side. "I have to go." 

"And I have to eat breakfast and have my first staff meeting." 

"Lucky you." 

"Yeah, I know. Have - have fun, Mallory. Not fun, but-" 

"I know what you mean. I'll call you tonight, Sam." With that, she was out the door, leaving the President of the United States standing in the hallway, feeling as though he weren't trying hard enough. 

For this Toby Ziegler had stayed up two nights, for this had he, former White House Communications Director, agreed to become Communications Director to the First Lady. Mallory's weeks wouldn't be filled with ribbon-cutting ceremonies or flitting about to parks and gardens and lunch with diplomats, not yet. One hundred days, more than one hundred schools, she had vowed, so that every child in America, from kindergarten through twelfth grade, and from rural to urban to magnet to alternate school buildings, might have a chance to see the First Lady, to hear her speak and know that her caring for them was very real. Every child in America, she had vowed, would have an even chance at shaking her hand or asking her a question. 

It was the Galileo Foundation writ large. 

It was utterly impossible. 

It was Mallory's answer to his plans, and to the Vice President's intent: that there should be an immediate, unmistakeable demonstration of this administration's intent to serve and connect with the people.

* * *

The execution of it would later be titled The Second Revolutionary War by commentators. A great flood, inescapable and almost overwhelming, was soon to burst forth on the landscape. It was crested with, not disaster and doubt, but with hope, belief, promise, tolerance, possibilities, awareness, choices, rhetoric. Its crafters swore it would be far beyond anything before, spoken from the most public of microphones. 

"I need that!" 

"Dammit!" 

"That's for the other thing." 

"I thought that was the second draft of the-" 

"No, that's for the Vice President." 

"Why did we agree to do this?" 

"I don't know." 

"Are you actually having fun?" 

Mike looked over at Justin upon this question; he was clutching paper in both fists, hair disordered, blue eyes exhausted, angry, frustrated, and driven to the brink. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" 

"We're going to be writing, oh, I don't know, ten speeches a day. Each!" he bellowed back. 

"And for whom are we writing them?" 

"The President and Vice President." 

"Can you think of a better use of our time, Justin? Really? There is no greater platform from which to throw our writing at the world than this one, and I can think of no one better suited to throw it than they. We are rewriting how this country thinks, we are rewriting that which we want in their hearts and minds." 

Slowly, Justin uncoiled a bit. "A man once said this," he started. 

"Our capacity may well be limitless?" Mike questioned. She saw Josh and Anne come to the bullpen and stop, waiting, upon hearing those words. 

"A man once said this," Justin started again. He looked past her, as though reading the words he was about to speak to himself, and continued very quietly. "'Few will have the greatness to bend history itself,'" he whispered, and in the tone she knew whose words and works had inspired Justin to do what he did and to find their leader's voice, "'but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation.'" 

"The total of these acts," she said. 

"Yes." She nodded, and stepped to the side a bit. 

"Josh, Anne." 

"We're meeting in half an hour," the Chief of Staff responded to the silent question. 

"Good quote, Justin," Anne complimented. He turned, smiling slightly. 

"All I had to do was remember it, and have the will to speak it. Half an hour?" 

"Yep." 

"So which one is he?" Mike asked after they left. 

"The first. We're the second, and we're asking the country to be the second, to help him achieve the first." With that, he spun and strode into his office. "Marcus! Get me some text from Dallas and Atlanta on housing, would you?"

* * *

"That's interesting." 

The President eyed his former House colleague as he leaned back. "I thought you might think so, Neil." 

"I didn't say which kind of interesting, sir." 

"Quite right, Congressman." 

"You said you were still going to be here." 

"I am. Maybe someplace you didn't quite expect, but it's not like I retired and went on the lecture circuit." 

"Mmm." Dwyer eyed the President thoughtfully. "Sir, did I hear right that you're telling me I need to work with southern Republicans to get this done?" 

"Only one of them is a southern Republican, and she's already agreed to this. I think you'll find her quite reasonable, if you don't mind someone who's not in a Shakespeare play speaking in iambic pentameter. You've worked with Anders before, and he'll bring some more Republicans into line. Ricks would like to get this to be permanent, and so would you. DeMartin is the country's darling right now, even more so than I am, so everyone in this has a vested interest in getting it to work." 

"Except for me?" 

"I didn't say that, Neil." 

"Don't you think it's going to turn into a Christmas tree bill?" The President returned his stare levelly. 

"It's only going to do that if it's weakly handled." 

Dwyer felt a smile forming. "Giving health care another leg up is your first One Hundred Days, sir?" 

"It's part of it." 

"How much a part?" 

"Why don't you listen to the State of the Union next week and find out?" 

"Sir-" Dwyer protested, for a second almost visibly daunted by the office this man now held. 

"Aren't you on a science committee or something?" 

"Yes, sir. The aeronautics, not the national science one." 

"That's what I thought. Listen, has NASA tried to get its funding increased?" 

"For years, Mr. President." 

"They want to go back to the Moon, and on to Mars." 

"Yes, sir. They've had more than their share of disasters, but the people they have there now are very dedicated and passionate about space travel and exploration. And some test vehicles are quite promising." 

"The full funding for putting them into operation has been denied?" 

"Department of Defense claims the money for paying for the invasions, sir. I thought you knew." 

"Yeah." The President set his glasses down, regarding the Congressman with an expression that was an odd mixture of very presidential gravitas and almost boyish lightness. "Think you can find a way to get people to line up three deep to vote for funding for a new space vehicle?" 

"Probably." 

"Thanks. I've got this thing, and the first press briefing to watch." 

"Thank you, Mr. President." 

"Yeah." That charming smile. "Sam!" 

"Good morning, Congressman," she greeted. "Yes, sir?" 

"How long do I have?" 

"Five minutes until Lisa's due to step to the podium, sir." Her almost angular fingers twisted around the doorknob, and he realized that she was nervous, too. Nervous that this would work, that it wouldn't... nervous about seeing a Presidency come out of the gate.

* * *

"Kim?" Carol half-stood from her chair, reaching across her desk. 

"Yes, Ms. Fitzpatrick?" 

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," she rebuked, looking over at her assistant. 

"Sorry." 

"I was going to ask where Lisa is." 

"I can check again, but I think she's on her way to the press room. Should I-" 

Carol held up a hand. "No, thanks. Sorry, Kim; go back to whatever you were doing for me." 

A pair of dark eyebrows lifted, but the other woman shrugged a bit. "No problem," she answered, and retreated. 

"Boy," she muttered to herself, "if I'm this nervous, Lisa must be petrified." 

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats; the briefing is about to begin." She almost started to walk down the hall, then settled back to watch the television, shifting restlessly. After squirming for the fifth time, she got up and made her way to the back of the press room as Lisa stepped in. Her short hair glowed under the lights, and her fingers traced along her briefing book with every evidence of certainty as she opened it and set it on the podium. 

Sometimes, looking at that backdrop still made Carol's throat go dry or choke with sudden tears of either pride or joy, depending on her mood. 

"Good morning, and welcome to the first press briefing of the administration." Lisa's eyes flicked around quickly; if Carol hadn't been working with her for over a year, she wouldn't have noticed that Lisa saw her, only betrayed by a slight change in expression. 

"Since we've been here less than 24 hours, it's a fairly light day. This morning, the President has already met with Democratic and Republican members of the House and Senate to discuss health care and education reform. It's obviously too early to reach any agreements on a bill or resolution, but the President wants to focus on the business of the nation as quickly as possible." She paused briefly to take a breath and refocus; perhaps the faces of the reporters told her that she sounded just slightly flat, a little uncertain, maybe a bit defensive. 

Oh, well. Even CJ hadn't come out of the gate swinging full speed. 

"Later this week, he will be meeting with members of each House and Senate committee, as well as his Cabinet, to discuss and organize priorities for the nation in the coming months and years. He encourages all of you to tune in for his State of the Union." A rustle of laughter. 

"There's not much else, except that the First Family and the senior staffs are settling in nicely. The First Lady has begun a tour of the nation's schools; I refer you to her press office for details. The First Children are enjoying their first day of school as the children of the President..." 

The two women let out a deep, inaudible breath in unison. It was going to be just fine.

* * *

"You know, 250 years ago, no one had actually written down that 'We hold this truth to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.' I think we've made pretty good progress since then." 

"I thought so too," the President confessed, face saddening and turning older for a moment, "until I found out why women weren't winning public office enough." He looked at Josh, who had missed the first two days of that time. "And you don't think, any more than I do, that we've really come far enough." 

Josh sucked in a breath. "No," he admitted at last, slowly. 

"So let's do it." 

"Yeah, the staff's probably ready. Is this a joint staff meeting?" 

"Yes." 

"Donna's going to... something." 

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Josh, try to act fifty instead of fifteen, will you?" the leader of the free world griped. 

"I'll try, sir. But I'm glad you had more chairs brought in." Josh set his hand on the desk by the President's, not quite touching, but that simple gesture reinforced their determination, knowing each would be there for the other and that the people no doubt driving Margaret and Sam crazy at this moment would be there for them, too. 

"How better to serve the people than to guarantee they will have a place to sit, should they make the effort to ask me what I'm doing for them?" the President asked rhetorically. He regarded the phone. "I suppose I should use this once in a while." 

"I think Margaret would appreciate it, sir." 

"Yes." He reached for the phone and paused. "After this, you'll have to let me know whether you prefer a joint staff meeting, or a meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I already know which one I'd rather have." 

"This one?" 

"Yeah." 

"Me too." Josh folded his hands. "This one doesn't usually mean that's something's gone disastrously wrong. That one, on the other hand... I'm just hoping we get through the-" 

"Don't say it." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Thanks." He picked up the phone, surveying it and the various buttons with annoyance. "Margaret? We're ready. Yeah. Thank you." 

"Are they driving her crazy?" 

"You already did that for them, Josh." 

"Oh, no," came the contradiction as the Chief of Staff stood. "I think she was born that way. Raisin muffins, remember." 

"Go away." 

"Yeah." Josh stepped to the other side of the desk as the door opened and the staff came in. The President stood, resting his fingers lightly on the fine wood, measuring them, considering again the content of his Presidency and not quite quailing inside at the prospect. 

He had come too far to be drawn into an easy leadership simply by standing in the Oval Office. 

"Have a seat," he invited after they had all positioned themselves near furniture. 

"I think they're waiting for you to sit down, sir," Josh prompted quietly. Carol's expression, slightly amused but awed too, attested to the accuracy of this. 

"Oh. I forgot." 

"You forgot," the other man muttered under his breath. "Mandate, sir. The Chief Justice was involved." 

"You're still standing too." 

"I'm not standing in front of a chair, sir." 

"Very well." Seaborn paced carefully around his desk and stood in front of it, pointing toward an armchair while giving Josh the best commanding expression he could muster while near to laughter. Josh obediently moved to it, resting one elbow on the back and returning his leader's gaze solemnly. Finally, the President leaned on the desk. "Have a seat," he repeated. 

Slowly, and checking to make sure the seat was still there behind them, the senior staff sat. The President coughed, very slightly, as he looked around at them. 

"There are many things a man once said which are important to us," he started. "There are many things a woman once said which are important to us. A woman once said this: 'It is education which permits us to be free.' A man once committed us to a great surge of exploration: that we shall put a man on the Moon by the end of this decade. A man once said this: 'Decisions are made by those who show up.'" He surveyed the room closely, meeting their eyes as his own overflowed with will and hope. 

"Another man once said this thing: 'It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.'" He paused, feeling the cadence and power of those words, watching Justin's lips part slightly. 

"This is because we crossed the ocean, Donna, and we took to the sky, Anne. It's because we dared them to vote for someone else, Josh. It's because we sought the knowledge to make the choice, Lisa, and because we vowed not to yield to imperfection, Elsie. It's because we dared to ask the question, Rich, and we admitted it wouldn't be enough, Jess. It's because we promised diversity and daring, Justin. It's because we sought the stars with all our capacity, Mike. This is because we threw our voices and wills in the direction of hope and possibility, Carol." 

Crystal silence, in a moment they would all remember for long years afterward. 

"This is all by way of saying-" Josh started. 

"-That my intent stands, and that my intent is to move forward. Carol, Elsie?" 

"Mr. President?" 

"Are we ready?" The communications staff exchanged looks, and Rich and Jess nodded in tune. Carol turned to face him. 

"Yes, sir." 

"Anne?" 

"Government of, by, and for the people, sir," she answered without hesitation. 

"Then," and the President clapped his hands together and smiled around the room again. "The clock is running on our One Hundred Days, ladies and gentlemen." 

"Yes, sir!" 

"Let's get in the game!" 


End file.
